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SIMON SUGGS 







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Drawing our blanks from their case, we pm ceeded : ‘ I i m the man, madam, 
that takes the census, and — — Page 151. 


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SIMON SUGGS’ 

ADVENTURES AND TRAVELS. 

COMPRISING ALL THE 

Intikirfs anlr Jiitentets af |is fiakls, 

i 

IN A SERIES OF SKETCHES OF HIS LIFE; 

’ WITH WIDOW rugby’s HUSBAND, AND 


TWENTY-SIX OTHER HUMOROUS TALES OF ALABAMA. 


BEING THE MOST 


LAUGHABLE AND SIDE-SPLITTING STORIES THAT HAVE EVER 
APPEARED IN PRINT, 





WITH SEVENTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS 

FROM 

ORIGINAL DESIGNS BY BARLEY. 


T. B. PETERSON, NO. 102 CHESTNUT STREET. 



ADVENTURES OF 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 



“ KIT KUNCKER,” FIDDLER BILL,” AND THE DOG “ ANDY.”— 165 . 


PHILADELPHIA: 

T. B. PETERSON 




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1 . vA-s ''^'iiSL^l;; 


ADVENTUllES 


OP 

CAPTAIN SIAION SUGCIS, 

LATE OP 

THE TALLAPOOSA VOLUNTEERS; 

' / 

TOGETHER WITH 

^^TAKING THE CENSUS/^ 


AND 

OTHER ALABAMA SKETCHES. 


BY THE AUTHOR OF “WIDOW RUGBY’S HUSBAND.” 


WITH A PORTRAIT OP SIMON SUGGS, FROM LIFE, 

AND 

TEN ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS BY BARLEY. 



> » •) • 




PIIILADELPIIIA: 

T. B. BE TICK SO IN, 


102 CHESTNUT STREET. 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1848, by 
CAREY AND HART, 

in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the 
Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 


Printed T?y T. K. & P. G. Collins. 


TO 

WILLIAM T. PORTER, Esq., 

CDITOR OF THE NEW YORK SPIRIT OF THE TLMES, 
THE FOLLOWING PAGES 

ARE 

RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, 

AS WELL IN TOKEN 

OF THE writer’s REGARD, 

AS BECAUSE, 

IF THERE BE HUMOUR IN THEM, 

THEY COULD HAVE NO MORE 


APPROPRIATE DEDICATION 


PREFACE. 


A small portion of “ Captain Suggs,” and one 
or two of the other sketches in this little volume, 
have already appeared in a country newspaper 
edited by the writer, and in the New York 
“ Spirit of the Times.” These having been 
somewhat flatteringly received by the public, 
the writer was induced to accede to a proposi- 
tion to print in this form. “ Suggs” ha^^lbere- 
fore been extended greatly beyond thg,^ifiginal 
intention, and several new sketches added ; so 
that by far the larger portion of the volume is 
published for the first time. 

If what was at first designed, chiefly, to amuse 
a community unpretending in its tastes, shall 
amuse the Great Public, the writer will, of 
course, be gratified. If otherwise, his mortifi- 
cation will be lessened by the reflection that the 
fault of the obtrusion is not entirely his own. 


La Fayette, Chambers County, Ala* 
March, 1845 . 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


CHAPTER FIRST. 

INTRODUCTION SIMON PLAYS THE “sNATCH” GAME. 

It is not often that the living worthy furnishes a 
theme for the biographer’s pen. The pious task of 
commemorating the acts, and depicting the character 
of the great or good, is generally and properly defer- 
red until they are past blushing, or swearing — con- 
strained to a decorous behaviour by the folds of their 
cerements. Were it otherwise, who could estimate 
the pangs of wounded modesty which would result! 
Who could say how keen would be the mortification, 
or how crimson the cheek of Grocer Tibbetts, for 
instance, should we present him to the world in all 
the resplendent glory of his public and his private vir- 
tues I — dragging him, as it w’ere, from the bosom of 
retirement and Mrs. Tibbetts, to hold him up before 
the full gaze of “the community,” with all his qua- 
lities, characteristics, and peculiarities written on a 
large label and pasted to his forehead! Would’nt 
Mr. Tibbetts almost die of bashfulness ? And would’nt 
Mrs. Tibbetts tell all her neighbours, that she would 
just as soon they had put Mr. Tibbetts in the stocks, 

7 


8 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


if it were not for the concomitant little boys and rot- 
ten eggs ? Certainly : and Mrs. Tabitha Tibbetts in 
making such a remark, would be impelled by a prin- 
ciple which exists in a majority of human minds — a 
principle which makes the idea revolting, that every 
body should know all about us in our life-times, not- 
withstanding our characters may present something 
better even than a fair average of virtue and talent. 

But “there is no rule without an exception,” and 
notwithstanding that it is both unusual and improper, 
generally, to publish biographies of remarkable per- 
sonages during their lives, for the reason already ex- 
plained, as well as because such histories must, of 
necessity, be incomplete and require post mortem ad- 
ditions — notwithstanding all this, we say, there are 
cases and persons, in which and to whom, the gene- 
ral rule cannot be considered to apply. Take, by 
way of illustration, the case of a candidate for office 
— for the Presidency we’ll say. His life, up to the 
time when his reluctant acquiescence in the wishes 
of his friends was wrung from him, by the stern de- 
mands of a self-immolating patriotism, must be writ- 
ten. It is an absolute, political necessity. His 
enemies loill know enough to attack ; his friends must 
know enough to defend. — Thus Jackson, Van Buren, 
Clay, and Polk have each a biography published 
while they live. Nay, the thing has been carried 
further ; and in the first of each “ Life” there is found 
what is termed a “ counterfeit presentment” of the 
subject of the pages which follow. And so, not only 
are the moral and intellectual endowments of the can- 
didate heralded to the world of voters ; but an attempt 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


9 


is made to create an idea of his physique. By this 
means, all the country has in its mind’s eye, an image 
of a little gentleman with a round, oily face — sleek, 
bald pate, delicate whiskers, and foxy smile, which 
they call Martin Van Buren ; and future generations 
of naughty children who will persist in sitting up 
when they should be a-bed, will be frightened to their 
cribs by the lithograph of “Major General Andrew 
Jackson,” which their mammas will declare to be a 
faithful representation of the Evil One — an atrocious 
slander, by the bye, on the potent, and comparatively 
well-favoured, prince of the infernal world. 

What we have said in the preceding paragraphs 
was intended to prepare the minds of our readers for 
the reception of the fact, that we have not undertaken 
to furnish for their amusement and instruction, in this 
and the chapters which shall come after, a few inci- 
dents — for we are by far too modest to attempt a 
connected memoir — in the life of Captain Simon 
Suggs, of Tallapoosa, without the profoundest me- 
ditation on the propriety of doing so ere the captain 
has been “ gathered to his fathers.” No! no! we 
have chewed the cud of this matter, until we flattei 
ourself all its juices have been expressed; and the 
result is, that as Captain Simon Suggs thinks it “ more 
than probable” he shall “ come before the people of 
Tallapoosa” in the course of a year or two, he is, in 
our opinion, clearly “ within the line of safe prece- 
dents,” and bound in honor to furnish the Suggs party 
with such information respecting himself, as will en- 
able them to vindicate his character whenever and 
wherever it may be attacked by the ruthless and pol- 


10 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


luted tongues of Captain Simon Suggs’ enemies. And 
in order that our hero should not appear before his 
fellow citizens under circumstances less advantageous 
than those which mark the introduction to the public 
of other distinguished individuals, we have, at the 
outlay of much trouble and expense, obtained the ser- 
vices of an artist competent to delineate his counte- 
nance, so that all who have never yet seen the Cap- 
tain may be able to recognize him immediately 
whenever it shall be their good fortune to be inducted 
into his presence. His autograph, — which was only 
produced unblotted and in orthographical correctness, 
after three several efforts, “from a rest,” on the 
counter of Bill Griffin’s confectionary — we have pre- 
sented with a view to humor the whim of those who 
fancy they can read character in a signature. All 
such, we suspect, would pronounce the Captain rug- 
gedy stubborn, and austere in his disposition ; whereas 
in fact, he is smooth, even-tempered, and facile! 

In aid of the portrait, however, it is necessary we 
should add a verbal description, in order to perfect 
the reader’s conceptions of the Captain. 

Beginning then, at our friend Simon’s intellectual 
extremity : — His head is somewhat large, and thinly 
covered with coarse, silver-white hair, a single lock 
of which lies close and smooth down the middle of a 
forehead which is thus divided into a couple of very 
acute triangles, the base of each of which is an eye- 
brow, lightly defined, and seeming to owe its scanti- 
ness to the depilatory assistance of a pair of tweezers. 
Beneath these almost shrubless cliffs, a pair of eyes 
with light-grey pupils and variegated whites, dance 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUfifiS. 


11 


and twinkle in an aqueous humor which is constantly 
distilling from the corners. Lids without lashes 
complete the optical apparatus of Captain Suggs ; and 
the edges of these, always of a sanguineous hue, glow 
with a reduplicated brilliancy whenever the Captain 
has remained a week or so in town, or elsewhere in 
the immediate vicinity of any of those citizens whom 
the county court has vested with the important privi- 
lege of vending spirituous liquors in less quantities 
than one quart.” The nose we find in the neighbour- 
hood of these eyes, is long and low, with an extre- 
mity of singular acuteness, overhanging the subjacent 
mouth. Across the middle, which is slightly raised, 
the skin is drawn with exceeding tightness, as if to 
contrast with the loose and wrinkled abundance sup- 
plied to the throat and chin. But the mouth of Cap- 
tain Simon Suggs is his great feature, and measures 
about four inches horizontally. An ever-present 
sneer — not all malice, however — draws down the 
corners, from which radiate many small wrinkles that 
always testify to the Captain’s love of the “filthy 
weed.” A sharp chin monopolizes our friend’s 
bristly, iron-gray beard. All these facial beauties are 
supported by a long and skinny, but muscular neck, 
which is inserted after the ordinary fashion in the 
upper part of a frame, lithe, long, and sinewy, and clad 
in Kentucky jeanes, a trifle worn. . Add to all this, 
that our friend is about fifty years old, and seems to 
indurate as he advances in years, and our readers 
will have as accurate an idea of the personal appear- 
ance of Captain Simon Suggs, late of the Tallapoosa 
Volunteers, as we are able to give them. 


12 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS- 


The moral and intellectual qualities which, with 
the physical proportions we have endeavoured to por- 
tray, make up the entire entity of Captain Suggs, may 
be readily described. His whole ethical system lies 
snugly in his favourite aphorism — It is good to be 
SHIFTY IN A NEW COUNTRY” — whicli means that it is 
right and proper that one should live as merrily and 
as comfortably as possible at the expense of others ; 
and of the practicability of this in particular instances, 
the Captain’s whole life has been a long series of the 
most convincing illustrations. But notwithstanding 
this fundamental principle of Captain Suggs’ philoso- 
phy, it were uncandid not to say that his actions often 
indicate the most benevolent emotions ; and there are 
well-authenticated instances within our knowledge, 
wherein he has divided with a needy friend, the five 
or ten dollar bill which his consummate address had 
enabled him to obtain from some luckless individual, 
without the rendition of any sort of equivalent, ex- 
cepting only solemnly reiterated promises to repay 
within two hours at farthest. To this amiable trait, 
and his riotous good-fellowship, the Captain is in- 
debted for his great popularity among a certain class 
of his fellow citizens — that is, the class composed of 
the individuals with whom he divides the bank bills, 
and holds his wild nocturnal revelries. 

The shifty Captain Suggs is a miracle of shrewd- 
ness. He possesses, in an eminent degree, that tact 
vhich enables man to detect the soft spots in his fel- 
low^, and to assimilate himself to whatever company 
he may fall in with. Besides,,Iie has a quick, ready 
wit, which has extricated him from many an unplea- 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


13 


sant predicament, and which makes him whenever he 
chooses to be so — and that is always — very com- 
panionable. In short, nature gave the Captain the 
precise intellectual outfit most to be desired by a man 
of his propensities. She sent him into the world a 
sort of he-Pallas, ready to cope with his kind, from his 
infancy, in all the arts by which men get along'"* in 
the world ; if she made him, in respect to his moral 
conformation, a beast of prey, she did not refine the 
cruelty by denying him the fangs and the claws. 

But it is high time we were beginning to record 
some of those specimens of the worthy Captain’s in- 
genuity, which entitle him to the epithet ‘‘ 

We shall therefore relate the earliest characteristic 
anecdote which we have been able to obtain ; and 
we present it to our readers with assurances that it 
has come to our knowledge in such a way as to leave 
upon our mind not ‘‘ a shadow of doubt” of its per- 
fect genuineness. It wdll serve, if no other purpose, 
at least to illustrate the precocious development of 
Captain Suggs’ peculiar talent. 

Until Simon entered his seventeenth year, he lived 
with his father, an old “hard shell” Baptist preacher; 
who, though very pious and remarkably austere, was 
very avaricious. The old man reared his boys — or 
endeavoured to do so — according to the strictest re- 
quisitions of the moral law. But he lived, at the 
time to which we refer, in Middle Georgia, which 
was then newly settled ; and Simon, whose wits from 
the time he was a “ shirt-tail boy,” were always too 
sharp for his father’s, contrived to contract all the 
coarse vices incident to such a region. He stole his 


14 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


mother’s roosters to fight them at Bob Smith’s gi 
eery, and his father’s plough-horses to enter them in 

quarter” matches at the same place. He pitched 
dollars with Bob Smith himself, and could “ beat him 
into doll rags” whenever it came to a measurement. 
To crown his accomplishments, Simon was tip-top at 
the game of ‘‘old sledge,” which was the fashionable 
game of that era ; and was early initiated in the mys- 
teries of “stocking the papers.” The vicious habits 
of Simon were, of course, a sore trouble to his father, 
Elder Jedediah. He reasoned, he counselled, he re- 
monstrated, and he lashed — but Simon was an incor- 
rigible, irreclaimable devil. One day the simple- 
minded old man returned rather unexpectedly to the 
field where he had left Simon and Ben and a negro 
boy named Bill, at work. Ben was still following 
his plough, but Simon and Bill were in a fence corner 
very earnestly engaged at “seven up.” Of course 
the game was instantly suspended, as soon as they 
spied the old man sixty or seventy yards off, striding 
towards them. 

It was evidently a “ gone case” with Simon and 
Bill ; but our hero determined to make the best of it. 
Putting the cards into one pocket, he coolly picked 
up the small coins which constituted the stake, and 
fobbed them in the other, remarking, “ Well, Bill, 
this game’s blocked; we’d as well quit.” 

“ But, mass Simon,” remarked the Boy, “ hdf dat 
money’s mine. An’t you gwine to lemme hab 
’em.”’ 

“Oh, never mind the money. Bill; the old man’s 
going to take the bark off both of us — and besides, 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 15 

with the hand I belt when we quit, I should ’a beat 
you and won it all any way.” 

‘‘ Well, but mass Simon, we nebber finish de game, 
and de rule ” 

Go to an orful h — 1 with your rule,” said the im- 
patient Simon — ‘‘ don’t you see daddy’s right down 
upon us, with an armful of hickories? I tell you I 
belt nothin’ but trumps, and could ’a beat the horns 
off of a billygoat. Don’t that satisfy you ? Some- 
how or another you’re d — d hard to please!” About 
this time a thought struck Simon, and in a low tone 
— for by this time the Reverend Jedediah was close 
at hand — he continued, “But maybe daddy don’t 
know, right down sure, what we’ve been doin’. Let’s 
try him with a lie — twon’t hurt, no way — let’s tell 
him we’ve been playin’ mumble-peg.” 

Bill was perforce compelled to submit to this in- 
equitable adjustment of his claim to a share of the 
stakes ; and of course agreed to swear to the game of 
mumble-peg. All this was settled and a peg driven 
into the ground, slyly and hurriedly, between Simon’s 
legs as he sat on the ground, just as the old man 
reached the spot. He carried under his left arm, 
several neatly-trimmed sprouts of formidable length, 
while in his left hand he held one which he was in- 
tently engaged in divesting of its superfluous twigs. 

“Soho! youngsters ! — you in the fence corner, and 
flie crap in the grass ; what saith the Scriptur’, Simon ? 
•Go to the ant, thou sluggard,’ and so forth and so 
jn. What in the round creation of the yeath have 
you and that nigger been a-doin’?” 

Bill shook with fear, but Simon was cool as a cu 


16 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


cumber, and answered his father to the effect that 
they had been wasting a little time in the game of 
mumble-peg. 

“Mumble-peg! mumble-peg!” repeated old Mr, 
Suggs, “what’s that?” 

Simon explained the process of rooting for the peg ; 
how the operator got upon his knees, keeping his 
arms stiff by his sides, leaned forward and extracted 
the peg with his teeth, y , 

“ So you git upon your knees^ do you, to pull up 
that nasty little slick ! you’d better git upon ’em to 
ask mercy for your sinful souls and for a dyin’ world. 
But let’s see one o’ you git the peg up now.” 

The first impulse of our hero was to volunteer to 
gratify the curiosity of his worthy sire, but a glance 
at the old man’s countenance changed his “ notion,” 
and he remarked that “Bill was a long ways the best 
hand.” Bill w'ho did not deem Simon’s modesty an 
omen very favourable to himself, was inclined to re- 
ciprocate compliments with his young master ; but a 
gesture of impatience from the old man set him in- 
stantly upon his knees ; and, bending forward, he es- 
sayed to lay hold with his teeth of the peg, which 
Simon, just at that moment, very wickedly pushed a 
half inch further down. Just as the breeches and 
hide of the boy were stretched to the uttermost, old 
Mr. Suggs brought down his longest hickory, with 
both hands, upon the precise spot where the tension 
was greatest. With a loud yell. Bill plunged for- 
ward, upsetting Simon, and rolled in the grass ; rub- 
bing the castigated part with fearful energy. Simon, 
though overthrown, was unhurt ; and he was men- 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


17 


tally complimenting himself upon the sagacity which 
had prevented his illustrating the game of mumble- 
peg for the paternal amusement, when his attention 
was arrested by the old man’s stooping to pick up 
something — what is it ? — a card upon which Simon 
had been sitting, and which, therefore, had not gone 
with the rest of the pack into his pocket. The sim- 
ple Mr. Suggs had only a vague idea of the paste- 
board abomination called cards; and though be 
decidedly inclined to the optnion that this was one, 
he was by no means certain of the fact. Had Simon 
known this he would certainly have escaped ; but he 
did not. His father assuming the look of extreme 
sapiency which is always worn by the interrogator 
who does not desire or expect to increase his know- 
ledge by his questions, asked — 

“ What’s this, Simon ?” 

“ The Jack- a-dimunts,” promptly responded Simon, 
who gave up all as lost after this faux pas. 

“ What was it doin’ down thar Simon, my sonny.?” 
continued Mr. Suggs, in an ironically affectionate 
tone of voice. 

“ I had it under my leg, thar, to make it on Bill, 
the first time it come trumps,” was the ready reply. 

“ What’s trumps asked Mr. Suggs, with a view 
of arriving at the import of the word. 

“Nothin’ a’ n’t trumps 7ioi4>,” said Simon, who 
misapprehended his father’s meaning — “ but clubs 
w^as, when you come along and busted up the 
game.” 

A part of this answer was Greek to the Reverend 
Mr Suggs, but a portion of it was full of meaning 
26 


18 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


They had then, most unquestionably, been throw- 
ing” cards, the scoundrels ! the “ oudacious” little 
hellions ! 

“ To the ^ mulberry’ with both on ye, in a hurry,” 
said the old man sternly. But the lads were not dis- 
posed to be in a “ hurry,” for “ the mulberry” was 
the scene of all formal punishment administered dur- 
ing work hours in the field. Simon followed his 
father, however, but made, as he went alolig, all man- 
ner of ‘^faces’’ at the old man’s back; gesticulated 
as if he were going to strike him between the shoul- 
ders with his fists, and kicking at him so as almost to 
touch his coat tail with his shoe. In this style they 
walked on to the mulberry tree, in whose shade Si- 
mon’s brother Ben was resting. Of what transpired 
there, we shall speak in the next chapter. 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


19 


CHAPTER THE SECOND. 

SIMON GETS A “ SOFT SNAp” OUT OF HIS DADDY. 

It must not be supposed that, during the walk to 
the place of punishment, Simon’s mind was either 
inactive, or engaged in suggesting the grimaces and 
contortions wherewith he was pantomimically ex- 
pressing his irreverent sentiments toward his father. 
Far from it. The movements of his limbs and fea- 
tures were the mere workings of habit — the self- 
grinding of the corporeal machine — for which his 
reasoning half was only remotely responsible. For 
while Simon’s person was thus, on its own account, 
“ making game” of old Jed’diah, his wits, in view 
of the anticipated flogging, were dashing, springing, 
bounding, darting about, in hot chase of some expe- 
dient suitable to the necessities of the case ; much 
after the manner in which puss — when Betty, armed 
with the broom, and hotly seeking vengeance for 
pantry robbed or bed defiled, has closed upon her 
the garret doors and windows — attempts all sorts of 
impossible exits, to come down at last in the corner, 
with panting side and glaring eye, exhausted and de- 
fenceless. Our unfortunate hero could devise nothing 
by which he could reasonably expect to escape the 
heavy blows of his father. Having arrived at this 
conclusion and the “ mulberry” about the same time, 
he stood with a dogged look awaiting the issue. 

The old man Suggs made no remark to any one 


20 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


while he was seizing up Bill — a process which, though 
by no means novel to Simon, seemed to excite in him 
a sort of painful interest. He watched it closely, as 
if endeavouring to learn the precise fashion of his fa- 
ther’s knot; and when at last Bill was swung up 
a-tiptoe to a limb, and the whipping commenced, 
Simon’s eye followed every movement of his father’s 
arm; and as each blow descended upon the bare 
shoulders of his sable friend, his own body writhed 
and ‘‘ wriggled” in involuntary sympathy. 

“ It’s the devil — it’s hell,” said Simon to himself, 
‘‘ to take such a walloppin’ as that. Why the old 
man looks like he wants to git to the holler, if he 
could — rot his old picter ! It’s wuth, at the least, fifty 
cents — je-e-miny how that hurt! — yes, it’s wuth 
three-quarters of a dollar to take that ’ere lickin’ I 
Wonder if I’m “ predestinated,” as old Jed’diah says, 
to git the feller to it ? Lord, how daddy blows I I 
do wish to God he’d bust wide open, the durned old 
deer-face I If ’twa’n’t for Ben helpin’ him, I b’lieve 
I’d give the old dog a tussel when it comes to my 
turn. It couldn’t make the thing no wuss, if it didn’t 
make it no better. ’D rot it I what do boys have dad- 
dies for, any how ? ’Taint for nuthin’ but jist to b«at 
’em and work ’em. — There’s some use in mammies 
— I kin poke my finger right in the old ’oman’s eye, 
and keep it thar, and if I say it aint thar, she’ll say 
so too. I wish she was here to hold daddy off. If 
’twa’n’t so fur, I’d holler for her, any how. How 
she would cling to the old fellow’s coat tail 1” 

Mr. Jedediah Suggs let down Bill and untied him. 
Approaching Simon, whose coat was off, “ Come, 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 21 

Simon, son,” said he, cross them hands ; I’m gwine 
to correct you.” 

“ It aint no use, daddy,” said Simon. 

“ Why so, Simon 

‘‘ Jist bekase it aint. I’m gwine to play cards as 
long as I live. When I go off to myself, I’m gwine 
to make my livin’ by it. So what’s the use of heat- 
in’ me about it 

Old Mr. Suggs groaned, as he was wont to do in 
the pulpit, at this display of Simon’s viciousness. 

“ Simon,” said he, “ ydu’re a poor ignunt creetur. 
You don’t know nuthin’, and you’ve never bin no 
whars. If I was to turn you off, you’d starve in a 
week — ” 

“ I wish you’d try me,” said Simon, “ and jist see. 
I’d win more money in a week than you can make in 
a year. There ain’t nobody round here kin make 
seed corn off o’ me at cards. I’m rale smart,” he 
added with great emphasis. 

“ Simon! Simon! you poor unlettered fool. Don’t 
you know that all card-players, and chicken-fighters, 
and horse-racers go to hell.'^ You crack-brained 
creetur you. And don’t you know that them that 
plays cards always loses their money, and — ” 

“ Who win’s it all then, daddy asked Simon. 

“ Shet your mouth, you imperdent, slack-jawed 
dog. Your daddy’s a-tryin’ to give you some good 
advice, and you a-pickin’ up his words that way. I 
knowed a young man once, when I lived in Ogle- 
tharp, as went down to Augusty and sold a hundred 
dollars worth of cotton for his daddy, and some o’ 
them gambollers got him to drinkin’, and the very 


22 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


first night he was with ’em they got every cent of his 
money.” 

“ They couldn’t get my money in a said 

Simon. ‘‘ Any body can git these here green feller’s 
money ; them’s the sort I’m a-gwine to watch for my- 
self. Here’s what kin fix the papers jist about as nice 
as any body.” 

“ Well, it’s no use to argify about the matter,” 
said old Jed’diah ; “ What saith the Scriptur’ ? ‘ He 
that begetteth a fool, doeth it to his sorrow.’ Hence, 
Simon, you’re a poor, misubble fool — so cross your 
hands!” 

“ You’d jist as well not, daddy ; I tell you I’m 
gwine to follow playin’ cards for a livin’, and what’s 
the use o’ bangin’ a feller about it ? I’m as smart as 
any of ’em, and Bob Smith says them Augusty fellers 
can’t make rent off o’ me.” 

The reverend Mr. Suggs had once in his life gone 
to Augusta ; an extent of travel which in those days 
was a little unusual. His consideration among his 
neighbours was considerably increased by the cir- 
cumstance, as he had all the benefit of the popular 
inference, that no man could visit the city of Augusta 
without acquiring a vast superiority over all his untra- 
velled neighbours, in every department of human 
knowledge. Mr. Suggs then, very naturally, felt in- 
effably indignant that an individual who had never 
seen any collection of human habitations larger than 
a log-house village — an individual, in short, no other 
or better than Bob Smith, should venture to express 
an opinion concerning the manners, customs, or any 
thing else appertaining to, or in any wise connected 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


23 


with, the ultima Thule of back- woods Georgians. 
There were two propositions which witnessed theif 
own truth to the mind of Mr. Suggs — the one was, 
that a man who had never been at Augusta, could 
not know any thing about that city, or any place, or 
any thing else ; the other, that one who had been 
there must, of necessity, be not only well informed 
as to all things connected with the city itself, but per- 
fectly au fait upon all subjects whatsoever. It was, 
therefore, in a tone of mingled indignation and con- 
tempt that he replied to the last remark of Simon. 

Boh Smith says, does he.^ And who’s Boh 
Smith ? Much does Boh Smith know about Augus- 
ty ! he’s been thar, I reckon ! Slipped off yerly some 
mornin’, when nobody warn’t noticin’, and got back 
afore night ! It’s only a hundred and fifty mile. Oh, 
yes. Boh Smith knows all about it ! I don’t know 
nothin’ about it ! I a’n’t never been to Augusty — 
I couldn’t find the road thar, I reckon — ha! ha. 
Boh — Smi-th! The eternal stink! if he was only to 
see one o’ them fine gentlemen in Augusty, with his 
fine broad-cloth, and bell-crown hat, and shoe-boots 
a-shinin’ like silver, he’d take to the woods and kill 
himself a-runnin’. Bob Smith ! that’s whar all your 
devilment comes from, Simon.” 

Bob Smith’s as good as any body else, I judge ; 
and a heap smarter than some. He showed me how 
to cut Jack,” continued Simon, “ and that’s more 
nor some people can do, if they have been to Au- 
gusty.” 

‘‘ If Bob Smith kin do it,” said the old man, “ I 
kin too. I don’t know it by that name ; but if it’s 


24 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


Dook knowledge or plain sense, and Bob kin do it, 
it’s reasonable to s’pose that old Jed’diah Suggs won’t 
be bothered had. Is it any ways similyar to the rule 
of three, Simon ?” 

“ Pretty much, daddy, but not adzactly,” said Si- 
mon, drawing a pack from his pocket, to explain. 
“Now daddy,” he proceeded, “you see these here 
four cards is what we calls the Jacks. Well, now the 
idee is, if you’ll take the pack and mix ’em all up to- 
gether, I’ll take off a passel from top, and the bot- 
tom one of them I take off will be one of the Jacks.” 

“Me to mix ’em fust?” said old Jed’diah. 

“ Yes.” 

“ And you not to see but the back of the top one, 
when you go to ‘ cut,’ as you call it ?” 

“ Jist so, daddy.” 

“And the backs all jist as like as kin be?” said 
the senior Suggs, examining the cards. 

“ More alike nor cow-peas,” said Simon. 

“ It can’t be done, Simon,” observed the old man, 
with great solemnity. 

“ Bob Smith kin do it, and so kin I.” 

“ It’s agin nater, Simon ; thar a’n’t a man in Au- 
gusty, nor on top of the yeath that kin do it !” 

“ Daddy,” said our hero, “ ef you’ll bet me ” 

“What!” thundered old Mr. Suggs. “jBei, did 
you say ?” and he came down with a scorer across 
Simon’s shoulders — “ me, Jed’diah Suggs, that’s been 
in the Lord’s sarvice these twenty years — me bet, you 
nasty, sassy, triflin’ ugly — ” 

“ I didn’t go to say that daddy ; that warn’t what 
I meant, •^rhactly. I went to say that ef you’d let 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


25 


me off from this here maulin’ you owe me, and give 
me ‘ Bunch,’ ef I cut Jack; I’d give you all this here 
silver, ef I didn’t — that’s all. To be sure, I allers 
knowed you wouldn’t 

Old Mr. Suggs ascertained the exact amount of the 
silver which his son handed him, in an old leathern 
pouch, for inspection. He also, mentally, compared 
that sum with an imaginary one, the supposed value 
of a certain Indian poney, called “ Bunch,” which 
he had bought for his “ old woman’s” Sunday riding, 
and which had sent the old lady into a fence corner, 
the first and only time she ever mounted him. As 
he weighed the pouch of silver in his hand, Mr. Suggs 
also endeavoured to analyse the character of the trans- 
action proposed by Simon. “ It sartinly canH be no- 
thin’ but givin\ no way it kin be twisted,” he mur- 
mured to himself. “ I know he can’t do it, so there’s 
no resk. What makes bettin’ ? The resk. It’s a 
one-sided business, and I’ll jist let him give me all 
his money, and that’ll put all his wild sportin’ notions 
out of his head.” 

“ Will you stand it, daddy ?” asked Simon, by wa^ 
of waking the old man up. ‘‘ You mought as well, 
for the whippin’ won’t do you no good, and as for 
Bunch, nobody about the plantation won’t ride him 
but me.” 

“ Simon,” replied the old man, “ I agree to it. 
Your old daddy is in a close place about payin’ for 
his land ; and this here money — it’s jist eleven dol- 
lars, lacking of twenty-five cents — will help out 
mightily. But mind, Simon, ef any thing’s said 


26 CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 

about tliis, lierearter, remember, you give me the 
money.” 

“ Very well, daddy ; and ef the thing works up 
instid o’ down, I s’pose we’ll say you give me Bunch 
—eh?” 

“You won’t never be troubled to tell how you 
come by Bunch ; the thing’s agin nater, and can’t be 
done. What old Jed’diah Suggs knows, he knows 
as good as any body. Give me them fixments, 
Simon.” 

Our hero handed the cards to his father, who, 
dropping the plough-line with which he had intended 
to tie Simon’s hands, turned his back to that indivi- 
dual, in order to prevent his witnessing the operation 
of mixing. He then sat down, and very leisurely 
commenced shuffling the cards, making, however, an 
exceedingly awkward job of it. Restive kings and 
queens jumped from his hands, or obstinately refused 
to slide into the company of the rest of the pack. 
Occasionally a sprightly knave would insist on facing 
his neighbour ; or, pressing his edge against another’s, 
half double himself up, and then skip away. But 
Elder Jed’diah perseveringly continued his attempts 
to subdue the refractory, while heavy drops burst 
from his forehead, and ran down his cheeks. All of 
a sudden an idea, quick and penetrating as a rifle- 
ball, seemed to have entered the cranium of the old 
man. He chuckled audibly. The devil had sug- 
gested to Mr. Suggs an impromptu “ stock,” which 
would place the chances of Simon, already sufficiently 
slim, in the old man’s opinion, without the range of 
possibility. Mr. Suggs forthwith proceeded to cull 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


27 


out’ll! the plcter oneSy so as to be certain to include 
the JackSy and place them at the bottom ; with the 
evident intention of keeping Simon’s fingers above 
these when he should cut. Our hero, who was 
quietly looking over his father’s shoulders all the 
time, did not seem alarmed by this disposition of the 
cards ; on the contrary, he smiled as if he felt per- 
fectly confident of success, in spite of it. 

‘‘ Now, daddy,” said Simon, when his father had 
announced himself ready, “ narry one of us aint got 
to look at the cards, while I’m a cuttin’ ; if we do, 
it’ll spile the conjuration.” 

‘‘ Very well.” 

And another thing — ^you’ve got to look me right 
dead in the eye, daddy — will you 

“ To be sure — to be sure said Mr. Suggs; “fire 
away.” 

Simon walked up close to his father, and placed 
his hand on the pack. Old Mr. Suggs looked in Si- 
mon’s eye, and Simon returned the look for about 
three seconds, during which a close observer might 
have detected a suspicious working of the wrist of 
the hand on the cards, but the elder Suggs did noc 
remark it. 

“Wake snakes! day’s a-breakin’l Rise Jack!” 
said Simon, cutting half a dozen cards from the top 
of the pack, and presenting the face of the bottom one 
for the inspection of his father. 

It was the Jack of hearts! 

Old Mr. Suggs staggered back several steps with 
uplifted eyes and hands ! 

“Marciful master!” he exclaimed, “ef the boy 


28 


JAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


haint ! well, how in the round creation of the ! 

Ben, did you ever ? to be sure and sartin, Satan has 
power on this yeath!” and Mr. Suggs groaned in very 
bitterness. 

“ You never seed nothin’ like that in Augusty, did 
ye, daddy ?” asked Simon, with a malicious wink at 
Ben. 

‘‘Simon, how did you do it? queried the old man, 
without noticing his son’s question. 

“Do it daddy? Doit? ’Taint nothin’. I done 
it jist as easy as — shodtin’.” 

Whether this explanation was entirely, or in any 
degree, satisfactory to the perplexed mind of Elder 
Jed’diah Suggs, cannot, after the lapse of time which 
has intervened, be sufficiently ascertained. It is cer- 
tain, however, that he pressed the investigation no 
farther, but merely requested his son Benjamin to 
witness the fact, that in consideration of his love and 
affection for his son Simon, and in order to furnish 
the donee with the means of leaving that portion of 
ihe state of Georgia, he bestowed upon him the im- 
practicable poney, “ Bunch.” 

“ Jist so, daddy ; jist sO ; I’ll witness that. But it 
’minds me mightily of the way mammy give old 
Trailler the side of bacon, last week. She a-sweep- 
in’ up the hath ; the meat on the table — old Trailler 
jumps up, gethers the bacon and darts ! mammy acter 
him with the broom-stick, as fur as the door — but 
seein’ the dog has got the start, she shakes the stick 
at him and hollers, ‘ You sassy, aig-sukkin’, roguish, 
gnatty, flop-eared varmint! take it along! take it 
along ! I only wish ’twas full of a’snic, and ox-vo- 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


29 


mil, and blue vitrul, so as ’twould cut your interls 
into chitlins !’ That’s about the way you give Bunch 
to Simon.” 

“ Oh, shuh! Ben,” remarked Simon, “ I wouldn’t 
run on that way ; daddy couldn’t help it, it was pre- 
destinated — ‘whom he hath, he will,’ you know;” 
and the rascal pulled down the under lid of his left 
eye at his brother. Then addressing his father, h^ 
asked, “ Warn’t it, daddy 

“ To be sure — to be sure — all fixed aforehand,” 
was old Mr. Suggs’ reply. 

“ Didn’t I tell you so, Ben ?” said Simon — “ I 
knowed it was all fixed aforehand and he laughed 
until he was purple in the face. 

“What’s in ye? What are ye laughin’ about?’’ 
asked the old man wrothily. 

“ Oh, it’s so funny that it could all a’ been fixea 
aforehand /” said Simon, and laughed louder than 
before. 

The obtusity of the Reverend Mr. Suggs, however, 
prevented his making any discoveries. He fell into 
a brow study, and no further allusion was made to 
the matter. 

It was evident to our hero that his father intended 
he should remain but one more night beneath the pa- 
ternal roof. What mattered it to Simon ? 

He went home at night, curried and fed Bunch ; 
whispered confidentially in his ear that he was the 

fastest piece of hoss-flesh, accordin’ to size, that 
ever shaded the yeath and then busied himself in 
preparing for an early start on the morrow. 


30 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


CHAPTER THE THIRD. 

SIMON SPECULATES. 

Old Mrs. Suggs’ big red rooster had hardly ceased 
crowing in announcement of the coming dawn, when 
Simon mounted the intractable Bunch. Both were 
in high spirits — our hero at the idea of unrestrained 
license in future ; and Bunch from a mesmerical trans 
mission to himself of a portion of his master’s devil- 
try. Simon raised himself in the stirrups, yelled a 
tolerably fair imitation of the Creek war-whoop, and 
shouted — 

“ I’m off, old stud ! remember the Jack-a-hearts!” 

Bunch shook his little head, tucked down his tail, 
ran side- ways, as if going to fall ; and then suddenly 
reared, squealed, and struck off at a brisk gallop. 

Out of sight of his old home, Simon became seri- 
ous — half melancholy. He thought over all the little 
incidents of his life — of his frolics with Bill and Ben 
— of the neighbour boys and girls — of the doting love 
of his mother ; and he couldn’t deny to himself, that 
it was sad to leave them all thus, perhaps no more to 
return to them. How long he may have indulged 
these sombre reflections is unknown ; they were at 
length interrupted however, by an outburst of laugh- 
ter, so sudden and violent that Bunch almost jumped 
out of his hide in a paroxysm of fright. 

“ Now won’t it be great !” said he, thinking aloud. 
“Won’t the old ’oman jump, and sputter, and teai 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 31 

off her cap, and break her spectacles!” and Simon 
roared with delight at the fan visible to his mind’s 
eye. “And Jee-e-hu!” he continued, “ won’t old 
Jed’diah grunt, and cuss, and pray! I think I see 
him now, with his shirt tail a-flyin’ ! Hoop-ee ! won^t 
they roll over the floor, and have chicken fits, a 
dozen at a time ! And thar’s Ben, ’d rot him, ’ill 
have every bit of fun to hisself ! But I don’t care no 
how ; I know adzactly how ’twill be — thar she lays 
a-kickin’, and thar hit is, on the hath, busted all to 
flinderjigs ; and thar’s daddy, a flyin’ round, a-turnin’ 
over every thing, jest as ef he had the blind-staggers. 
And bime-by, she’ll sort o’ come too, and daddy’ll 
ax her ef she’s bad hurt ; and then right away she’ll 
take another one o’ them starricks, and then from 
that, of all the kickin’, snortin’, hollerin’, and cavor- 
tin’ that ever was seen, they’ll do it — haw ! haw ! 
haw^ !” * 

This quick transition from gloomy feelings to furi- 
ous mirth, would perhaps be inexplicable to our read- 
ers, unless we mentioned the fact that Simon had, as 
soon as he arose, stolen into his mother’s room, and 
nicely loaded the old lady’s pipe with a thimble full 
of gunpowder ; neatly covering the “ villainous salt- 
petre” with tobacco. It was the scene he thought 
likely to occur when Mrs. Suggs should begin to so- 
lace herself with her matutinal “ smoke,” which made 
him laugh so loudly and so long. Whether the ex- 
plosion did actually occur, must ever remain a ques- 
tion of some doubt : but there certainly is great plau- 
sibility in Simonas view of the matter, which is, that 
every thing was so excellently arranged, that he’ll 


32 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


‘‘ be damned if it didn’t blow the old woman within 
a foot, or a foot and a half of kingdom come.” How- 
beit, there are those who do not scruple to declare 
their belief that Mr. Suggs hazards nothing by such an 
asservation — seeing, as they declare, that the proba- 
bility of his escaping the clutches of the old gentle- 
man with the cloven hoof is exceedingly minute, 
independent of any mistake in relation to the explosion 
of the pipe. On this point, we^ of course, have no- 
thing to say. We are Captain Suggs’ biographer. 
If he be saved, well ! If not, it’s none of our busi- 
ness. On so delicate a question, propriety will barely 
allow us the single remark, that should the Captain 
fail to slip past St. Peter, none but the ‘‘ duly quali- 
fied” need thereafter attempt to effect an entrance. 

His fit of laughter over, it was not long before Si- 
mon was at Bob Smith’s grocery ; and here, we are 
sorry to say, we lose all trace — at least all authentic 
trace — of him, for the next twenty years. Over, and 
over again, we have questioned ‘‘ those who ought 
to know,” but without ever having been able to get 
our hero one foot beyond the grocery. Like a sulky 
mule, there he stops every time, at Bob Smith’s gro- 
cery. And in truth, we can say that the habit of 
stopping at places of that description has only been 
confirmed by time ; notwithstanding which, however, 
it is right we should add, that we have never known 
the Captain to remain at one longer than six weeks 
at any one visit — a period of time greatly less than 
twenty years. We therefore do not, for a moment, 
entertain the idea that the Captain remained at Bob 
Smith’s during the last-mentioned period. The sup* 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 33 

position is altogether improbable : Bob Smith himself, 
did not, in all likelihood; remain there so long. But 
so it is, all concur that he went there, while none 
know how long he remained, or whither he after- 
wards went. Some have heard that he went thence 
to Augusta ; others aver that in their opinion, he tra- 
velled away down into the low country “ whar they 
call sop, gravy ; again, some say that a man very 
much like him was seen travelling in the Cherokee 
country ; and not a few contend that he married, and 
settled in an adjoining eastern county, leading a quiet 
and blameless life for many years. It is certain that 
he married : eight or ten strapping boys attest that 
fact — the rest is all doubt, uncertainty, and vague 
speculation. But, asks the reader, cannot Captain 
Suggs himself solve this mystery? Softly, good 
friend ! The Captain chooses to be silent on the sub- 
ject, and it does not become his friends to press him 
with questions. We once knew an individual in 
whose history there was a hiatus of four years. Of 
all other portions of his life he spoke with the utmost 
freedom, but to these four years he never referred, 
and when questioned closely as to how he spent 
them, his reply was ever a wink, and “ None of your 
business, sir!” Some years after his death, it was 
accidentally discovered that the four years unac 
counted for were spent in a penitentiary. Now we, 
by no means, mean to insinuate any thing like this in 
regard to Captain Suggs. Penitentiaries might gape 
on every side, and we’d give long odds that the Cap- 
tain would be found outside while any body else was! 
We hut mean to intimate that the Captain has some 
27 


34 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


very good reason for not referring in any way to the 
unilluminated period, or any events which may have 
transpired therein. It’ a free country, this, and no 
man is obliged by the law — and if the law do not 
oblige him, who or what else shall ? — to state to the 
public where he lived, or how he spent his time, dur- 
ing any particular year or series of years. Suppose — 
we speak hypothetically — some enemy of Captain 
Suggs were to assert, that during the twenty years he 
was “buried to the world,” he had lived in the 
county of Carroll, in the “sovereignty” of Georgia, 
where, from “ time immemorial,” the chief occupation 
of the inhabitants has been to steal horses — Carroll, 
the head-quarters of the old “Pony Clubl” Just 
suppose that! And suppose further, that this bold 
and knowing individual should accompany that asser- 
tion with a wink of the eye, or a down-drawing of 
his mouth corners, or the placing of his thumb on the 
tip of his nose, or any other gesture or gesticulation 
intended to express covertly, (and falsely, of course,) 
the charge that Captain Suggs himself had stolen 
horses! What would the world — what would we 
say? It might, perhaps, be presumptuous in us to 
give a supposititious answer for the world ; but for our 
self we can speak outright. We should say — boldly, 
haughtily, indignantly say — “let him prove it]” 
Skipping over a score of years, then, during which 
the Captain’s head from close application to theologi- 
cal studies, or some other cause, had become quite 
gray, we find him, in the year of our Lord 1833. 
snugly settled on public land on the Tallapoosa river, 
in the midst of that highly respectable town of Indians, 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


35 


known as the Oakfuskees. There he was, as jolly as 
Bacchus, with a pretty large family and considerable 
experience, but without funds — a speculator in Creek 
lands ! 

To the uninitiated it may seem odd that a man 
without a dollar should be a land speculator. We 
admit that there is a seeming incongruity in the idea 
but have those in whose minds speculation and capi- 
tal are inseparably connected, ever heard of a process 
by which lands were sold, deeds executed, and all 
that sort of thing completely arranged, and all with- 
out once troubling the owner of the soil for an opinion 
even, in regard to the matter? Yet such occur- 
rences were frequent some years since, in this 
country, and they illustrated one mode of speculation 
requiring little, if any, cash capital. But there were 
other modes of speculating without money or credit ; 
and Captain Simon Suggs became as familiar with 
every one of them, as with the way to his own corn- 
crib. ^ As for those branches of the business requiring 
actual pecuniary outlay, he regarded them as only lit 
to be pursued by purse-proud clod-heads. Any fool, 
he reasoned, could speculate if he had money. But 

buy, to sell, to make profits, without a cent in one’s 
pocket — this required judgment, discretion, inge- 
nuity — in short, genius! 

The following is a true account of the Captain’s 
first “operation:” 

Shortly after the land office had been opened a* 
Montgomery, a perfect mania for entering government 
lands prevailed through the country. Speculators 
from Georgia and Tennessee, and from the older set- 


36 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


tlements of this state, might be seen dashing along at 
half-speed, almost any hour in the twenty-four, to- 
wards Montgomery. Many a long and hard race was 
run by rival land-hunters, intent upon the acquisition 
of the same “ first-rate eighty” or “ tip-top quarter.” 
Ah! but those were “the times that tried” horse- 
flesh ! But as we were going to say, there was a 
public house on the road from Captain Suggs’ neigh- 
bourhood to Wetumpka, about fifteen miles from the 
latter place, and double that distance from Mont- 
gomery. At this house the Captain stopped once, in 
the hope of finding prey among the numerous specu- 
lators who thronged it almost every night, going to, 
or returning from, the land office. It so chanced on 
the occasion to which we refer, that supper-time 
brought with it no additional guest to Mr. Double- 
joy’s table ; and the Captain having nothing better to 
do, retired early to bed. He had hardly fixed him- 
self snugly between the sheets, however, when two 
persons rode up to the house, almost simultaneously, 
and put up for the night. One of these persons came 
from the direction of Wetumpka, the other from the 
Georgia end of the road. It was not long before the 
new-comers, who proved to be old acquaintances, 
had dispatched supper, and taken a bed together in 
a room adjoining the Captain’s. Their bed, how- 
ever, was close to his, and the cracks of the log par- 
tition enabled him to catch a part of the conversation 
which occurred after the strangers had lain down. 
From it he gathered the facts, that one of the parties 
was bound for Montgomery, and that his object was 
to enter a tract of land, upon which was a very valu- 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


37 


able mill-shoal. He listened to hear the numbers, 
but the speculator only incidentally mentioned that i. 
was part of section ten, leaving the Captain entirely 
Sn the dark as to the township and range. 

“ If,” muttered he, “ I could only get the township 
and range, I’d make a cahoot business with old man 
Doublejoy, get the money from him, and enter that 
mill-shoal with the twenty foot fall, before ten o’clock 
to-morrow.” But though he listened closely, he 
could obtain no more accurate description of the lana 
than that it was a part of section ten, in the eastern part 
of his own county, near Dodd’s store, and valuable 
as a location for a set of mills. He learned further, 
that the stranger was very apprehensive that an agent 
of a certain company would be at his heels by morn- 
ing, and give him a race for the land. This deter- 
mined the captain how to act, and he rolled over ana 
went to sleep. 

By day-break the next morning the mill-shoal man 
was off. The Captain was “ wide awake,” but said 
nothing until his intended victim was fairly gone. He 
then ordered his owm horse and dashed down the 
road at half-speed. By the time he had ridden half 
a mile, he overtook the land-seeker, whose horse 
seemed very still’ and slightly lame. 

— Mornin’, mister,” was the Captain’s salutation, 
as he rode up by the stranger’s side. ‘‘ Sorter airish 
this morning’ — judge that horse o’ yourn is tetchea 
with the founder.” 

‘^I’m afraid so,” was the reply. 

“ Oh, I’ll be damned if you need be afeerd of it, 
mister. It’s jest so,” said Captain Suggs. “ In two 


38 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


hours more he won’t be able to step over the butt cut 
of a broom straw.” 

“ I hate it worse,” said the stranger, “because I’m 
just now in a particular hurry to get to Montgomery 
on important business. I would give any gentle- 
man,” he continued, eyeing the Captain’s old sorrel, 
“ an excellent trade, to get a nag that would do a few 
hours’ hard travel.” 

“Oh, I understand — but you needn’t view this 
cere old animal like you thought so much on him. 1 

tell you what, mister , what did you say your 

name happened to be? Jones, eh? — well, ’squire 
Jones, I’ll tell you on the honqr of a gentleman, if 
you was to ’light from your horse and lay the purtiest 
hunderd dollar bill that ever had a picter on it, across 
your saddle, I wouldn’t take ’em both for old Ball at 
this particular time. In four hours I must be in 
Montgomery.” 

“ You certainly must be going to enter land, froxii 
your hurry.” 

“ A body would think so, that looked into the mat- 
ter rightly. And what’s more,” said the Captain, 
“ it’s quite likely there’s somebody else after my land 
from what I’ve hearn — so I must push. Good 
mornin’.” 

As the Captain struck his heels against Ball’s sides, 
Mr. Jones seemed to grow nervous. 

“Whereabouts does your land lie?” he asked. 

“Up in Tallapoosy,” replied Suggs; and again he 
thumped Ball with his heels. 

Mr. Jones evidently grew more uneasy. — “What 
part of the county?” he asked. 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 39 

“ Close to the Chambers’ line — not far from Dodd’s 
store — get along Ball!” was the Captain’s answer. 

“ Stop, sir — if you please — perhaps — I would like 
— we’d better perhaps under — ” gasped Mr. Jones 
in great agitation. 

‘‘ To be sure we had,” said Suggs, with great sang 
froid, “It’s jist as you say. But what the devil’s 
the matter with you ? — are you goin’ to take a fit?” 

Jones explained that he thought it likely they were 
both going to enter the same piece of land. “ What 
did you say was the numbers of yours ?” he asked. 

“ I didn’t mention no numbers as well as I now re- 
collect,” said Suggs with a bland smile. “ Hows’- 
ever, ’squire Jones, as it looks like your gear don’t 
fit you somehow. I’ll jist tell you that the land I’m 
after is a d — d little, no-account quarter section, that 
nobody would have but me ; its poor and piney, but 
it’s got a snug little shoal on it, with twenty or twen- 
ty-five foot fall, and maybe they’ll want to build a 
little town at Dodd’s some of these days, and I mought 
sell ’em the lumber. Seein’ you’re pretty much afoot 
even if you wanted it, I may as well give you the 
numbers, if I can without lookin’ in my pocket book. 
It’s ten — ten — ten — Section ten, Township — Oh, 
damn the number, I never can remember — ” 

“S. E. quarter of 10: 22, 25 — aint it?” asked 
Jones, who looked perfectly wild. 

“Now you hit me! — good as four aces — them’s 
the figures !” said Captain Suggs. 

“ It’s the same piece I’m after; I’ll give you fifty 
dollars to let me enter it.” 

“You wouldn’t now, would you?” 


40 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


“ ril give you a hundred!” 

“Try again!” 

“Well, ril give you a hundred and fifty, and not 
a dollar more,” said Jones in a decisive tone. 

“ Let’s see — well, I reckon — tho’ I don’t know — 
yes, I suppose I must let you have it, as I can’t well 
spar’ the money to enter it at this time, no how”” — 
remarked Suggs, with much truth, as his cash on 
hand didn’t amount to quite one-fortieth part of the 
sum necessary to make the entry. “But we must 
swap horses, and you must give me twenty dollars 
boot.” 

This was agreed to, and Captain Simon Suggs re- 
ceived the one hundred and seventy dollars with the 
air of a man who was conferring a most substantial 
favour ; and made divers remarks laudatory of his own 
disposition while Mr. Jones counted the bills and 
changed the saddles. “ Give my respects to Colonel 
Benson when you see him at the land office ; tell him 
we’re all well” — said he to Jones as they shook 
hands. Certes, he didn’t know Colonel Benson from 
the great chief of the Pawnees : but Suggs has his 
weaknesses like other people. 

Turning his horse’s head homeward. Captain Suggs 
soliloquized somewhat in this vein: “ A pretty, tolo- 
ble fair mornin’s work, I should say. A hundred 
and seventy dollars in the clear spizarinctum, and a 
horse wuth jist fifty dollars more than old Ball ! — 
That makes about two hundred and twenty dollars, 
as nigh as 1 can guess without I had Dolbear along ! 
Now some fellers, after makin’ sich a little decent rise 
would milk the cow” dry, by pushin’ on to Double- 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


41 


joy’s, startin’ a runner the nigh way to Montgomery, 
by the Augusty ferry, and enterin’ that land in some- 
body else’s name before Jones gits thar ! But honesty’s 
the best policy. Honesty’s the bright spot in any 
man’s character! — Fair play’s a jewel, but honesty 
beats it all to pieces! Ah yes, homsty^ honesty’s 
the stake that Simon Suggs will allers tie to' 
What’s a man without his inteegerty?” 


42 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS > 


CHAPTER THE FOURTH. 

SIMON STARTS FORTH TO FIGHT THE ‘‘ TIGER,” AND 
FALLS IN WITH A CANDIDATE WHOM HE “ DOES” TO 
A cracklin’. 

Reader! didst ever encounter the Tiger? — not the 
bounding creature of the woods, with deadly fang and 
mutilating claw, that preys upon blood and muscle — 
but the stealthier and more ferocious animal which 
ranges amid “ the busy haunts of men” — which feeds 
upon coin and bank-notes — whose spots, more attrac- 
tive than those of its namesake of the forest, dazzle 
and lure, like the brilliantly varying hues of the 
charmer snake, the more intensely and irresistibly, the 
longer they are looked upon — the thing, in short, of 
pasteboard and ivory, mother-of-pearl and mahogany 
— THE Faro Bank! 

Take a look at the elegant man dealing out the 
cards, from that bijou of a box, there. Observe with 
what graceful dexterity he manages all the appliances 
of his art ! The cards seem to leap forth rather in 
obedience to his will, than to be pulled out by his 
fingers. As he throws them in alternate piles, note 
the whiteness and symmetry of his hand, the snowy 
spotlessness of the linen exposed by the turn-up of 
his coat-cuff, and the lustre of the gem upon his little 
finger. Now look in his face. Isn’t he a handsome 
fellow — a man to make hearts feminine ache ? And 
how singularly at variance with the exciting nature 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


43 


of his occupation, is the expression of his counte- 
nance ! How placid ! He has hundreds depending 
upon the turn of the next card, and yet his face is 
entirely calm, if you except a very slight twitching 
of the eye-lids, which are so nearly closed that the 
longjashes nearly intermingle. A pretty, gentlemanly 
Tiger-keeper, in sooth ! He smiles now — mark the 
beauty of that large mouth, and the dazzling splen- 
dour of those teeth ! — as he addresses the florid and 
flushed young man, there at the table, whose last dol- 
lar he has just swept from the board. ‘‘ The bank 
is singularly fortunate to-night. Nothing but the best 
sort of luck could have saved it from the skilful com- 
bination with which you attacked. Ninety-nine times 
out of a hundred you would have broken it — Fve 
had an escape.” Spite of his ruinous losses, the poor 
devil is flattered by the compliment. Oh ass! of 
skull most impenetrable ! To-day you are, or rather 
you were, on your way to college, with the first year’s 
expenses — the close parings of the comforts of the 
old widow your mother, and the thin, blue-eyed gir^ 
your sister — in your pocket. This day twelvemonth, 
you will keep the scores of a gambling house and 
live upon the perquisites! See if you don’t! The 
Tiger has cheated the professors, and you have 
cheated your family and — yourself! 

Almost every man has his idiosyncrasy — his pet 
and peculiar opinion on some particular subject. 
Captain Simon Suggs has his ; and he clings to it with 
a pertinacity that defies, alike the suggestions of rea- 
son, and the demonstrations of experience. Simon 
oelieves that he can whip the Tiger, a fair fight. 


44 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


He has always believed it ; he xoill always believe it. 
The idea has obtained a lodgment in his cranium and 
peremptorily refuses to be ejected ! It is the weak 
point — the Achilles'^ heel^ as one might say — of his 
character. Remind him of the time, in Montgomery, 
when by a bite of this same Tiger, he lost his money 
and horse, and was compelled to trudge home afoot ! 
ah, but then^ he “ hadn’t got the hang of the game.” 
Bring to his recollection how severely it scratched 
him in Girard ! — oh, but that fellow rung in a two- 
card box” upon him. Ask him if he did’nt drop a 
couple of hundreds at the Big Council } Certainly — 
but then he was drinky and played careless ;” and 
so on to the end. — Still he inflexibly believes he is to 
get the upper hand of the Tiger, some day when it 
is exceedingly fat, and wear its hide as a trophy ! 
Still the invincible beast lacerates him instead ! Such 
is the infatuation of Captain Suggs. 

Acting under this delusion Simon determined, as 
soon as he obtained the money by the “ land trans- 
action” recorded in our last, to visit the city of Tus- 
caloosa, where the Legislature was to commence its 
session in a few days, with the double object of 
“weeding out” members, and making a grand de- 
monstration against some bank. His “ pile,” to be 
sure, considering how extensive were the operations 
contemplated, was certainly small — inadequate. But 
as Simon remarked, upon setting out, “ there is no 
telling which way luck or a half-broke steer will run.” 
So perhaps the amount of his capital was really not a 
matter of any great consequence. He carried a hun- 
dred and fifty dollars with him ; the results might not 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 45 

have been different, had he carried a thousand and 
fifty — who shall say ? 

The Captain — would that we could avoid the 
anachronism we commit every time we apply the 
military designation of Simon, in speaking of events 
which occurred anterior to the year of grace 1836 ; — 
however, let it go — the Captain left his horse at a 
farm-house near Montgomery, and took the mail- 
coach for the capital. The only other passenger was 
a gentleman who was about to visit the seat of govern- 
ment, with the intention of making himself a bank 
director, as speedily as possible. The individual as- 
sumed, and insisted on believing, that Simon was the 
member from Tallapoosa. This, of course Simon 
denied — but denied “ in such a sort!” 

“ I should be highly pleased, sir, if you could make 
it consistent with your views of the public good, to 
receive your support for that directorship, sir” — 
quoth the candidate. 

What keen people you candidates are, to find 
out folks,” said Simon. “ But mind, I haint said yet 
I was a member. I told wife when I started, 1 

warn’t goin’ to tell nobod hello ! I liked to a 

ketcht myself — didn’t I ?” said Simon, winking plea- 
santly at the embryo director. 

“ Ah, you’re a close, prudent fellow, I see,” said 
the candidate ; ‘‘ I like prudence, sir, in public offi- 
cers, sir I It’s the bul wark, sir, to hang the anchor 
of the state upon, to speak nautically, sir. But as I 
was remarking, if duty to the state, to the country, 
and to the institution itself, would permit, I would be 
profoundly grate 


46 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


Yes” — interrupted Suggs — ‘‘ prudence is the stob 
I fasten the grape-vine of my cunnoo to. I said I 
wouldn’t tell it — nor I won’t.” 

‘^The present directoy, sir, or at least a portion 
of it, sir, does not display that zeal, sir, in the ser- 
vice of the public — that promptitude, sir, and that 
spirit of accommodation — which the community has 
a right to expect, sir. Though, perhaps, I oughtn’t, 
on account of the delicacy of my position, to make 
invidious remarks, sir — and sir, I make it a point 
never to do so — still, I may be permitted to say, that 
should the legislature honor me with their confidence, 
sir, I shall — that is to say, sir, a very different state 
of affairs may be anticipated. The institution, sir, 
should command the whole of my intellectual ener- 
gies and faculties, sir. The institution, sir .” 

“To be sure! to be sure! I understand,” said 
Simon. “ The institution’s what we’re all after. As 
for the present directory, they’re all a pack of d — d 
swell-heads. Afore I left Montgomery I went to one 
on ’em, and told him who I was, and let on that I 
wanted a few dollars to pay expenses down. He 
knowed, in course, I’d soon be gittin’ four hel- 

lo! I’m about to ketch myself agin!” — and Simon 
laughed, and winked at his companion. 

“Four dollars joer diem, besides mileage,” said 
the candidate with a witching smile. 

“ Never mind about that, I say nothin’ myself — 
other people can say what they please. Any how, 
that feller wouldn’t let me have a dollar!” 

“What ungentlemanly conduct!” remarked the 
financier, energetically.” 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


47 


“ D — (1 if he would — not a dollar — without I’d 
pledge myself to support him. That sir, I scorned 
to do,” continued Simon, half rising from his seat, 
and swelling with indignation ; “ so I told him I’d see 
him as deep in h-11 as a pigeon could fly in a fort- 
night, first ” 

“ A very proper reply, sir — a very spirited reply, 
sir — just such a one, sir, as a man of high moral prin- 
ciple, refined feelings, pure patrio ” 

“ Oh, I gin him thunder and lightnin’ stewed down 
to a strong pison, I tell you. I cussed him up one 
side and down tother, twell thar warn’t the bigness 
of your thumb nail, that warn’t properly cussed. And 
in the windin’ up, I told him I’d pay my stage fare 
as fur towards Tuskalusy as my money hilt out, and 
walk the rest of the way, I would — but I’ll show 
him,” added the captain with a savage frown. 

“Magnanimous, sir! that was magnanimous! A 
great moral spectacle, sir ! You cursing the director, 
sir — withering him up with virtuous indignation — 
threatening to walk eighty miles, sir, 'over very infe- 
rior roads, to discharge your public functions — he 
cowering, as doubtless he did, before the representa- 
tive of the people ! Yes, sir, it was a sublime moral 
spectacle, worthy of a comparison with any recorded 
specimens of Roman or Spartan magnanimity, sir. 
How nobly did it vindicate the purity of the repre- 
sentative character, sir !” 

“ Belikes it did” — said the Captain — “ shouldn’t 
be surprised. There was smartly of a row betwixt 
us, certin. We did’nt make quite as much noise as a 
panter and a pack of hounds, but we made some. 


48 


CAPTAIN SIMO^ SUGGS. 

When we blowd off, I judge he had the wust of it : 
he looked like he had, any how.” 

“No doubt of it, sir; no doubt at all, sir. And 
now, my dear sir, if you will permit me to indicate 
what would have been my deportment upon such an 
occasion, I trust I can make you comprehend the dif- 
ference between the conduct of an insolent official, 
and that of the high-bred, gentlemanly, public func- 
tionary !” 

Captain Suggs gesticulated his willingness to listen ; 
felicitating himself the while, upon the fact that Mr. 
Smith, his county member, would not be along for 
several days. The chances were altogether favour- 
able for making a “ raise,” without fear of immediate 
detection — which is all the Captain ever cared for. 
So he isn’t taken red-handed, after-claps may go to 
the devil! 

“ Why, sir,” resumed the candidate, after taking 
a sly peep at a printed list, to get the name of the 
member from Tallapoosa — “ why, sir, if you had ap- 
proached me as you did the individual of whom we 
have been speaking; I occupying — you understand, 
sir — the important fiscal station of bank director, and 
you the highly honorable official position which you 
do occupy, of representative of the respectable county 
ofTalla— ” 

“Stop! I never said my name was Smith; nor I 
never set myself up for a legislator man ! You heerd 
me tell the driver when I got up, not to tell the peo- 
ple who I was and whar I was goin’ !” 

“ Oh, we understand all that, my dear sir, per- 
fectly — perfectly said the candidate, with a smile 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


49 


of humorous intelligence. — There are many reasons 
why gentlemen of distinction should at times desire 
to travel without being known.” 

“ ril be d — d if thar ain’t !” thought Captain Simon 
Suggs. 

“ But my dear sir, there are persons so skilled in 
human nature, so acute in their perceptions of worth 
and talent, that they detect at a glance those whom 
the people have honored. You can’t pass us my 
dear sir! — ha! ha! Oh no! We recognize you at 
once ! However, as I was going on to remark — had 
you approached me under the circumstances stated, I 
should have said to you — Colonel Smith, your elec- 
tion by the enlightened people of the important county 
you represent, is ample guaranty to me, that you are 
a gentleman of the nicest honor, and the most unim- 
peachable veracity, even if the fact were not con- 
clusively attested by your personal appearance. The 
sum you need, my dear Colonel, for expenses, is of 
course too small to justify a discount. Will you ob- 
lige me by drawing for the requisite amount on my 
private funds ? — that’s what J, sir, should have said, 
sir, under the circumstances.” 

“ By the Lord, stranger,” remarked the Captain, 
seizing the candidate’s hand and shaking it repeatedly 
with great warmth, to all appearance as completely 
overwhelmed with gratitude for the supposititious loan, 
as he could possibly have been had it been real — 
‘‘ by the Lord, that would a-been the way ! I’d a’stuck 
to a feller that done that way, twell the cows come 
home — I’d cut the big vein of my neck before I’d 
ever desert sich a friend ! I’d wade to my ears in 
28 


50 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


blood, to fight by that man’s side; d — d if 
’jpouldn’t.” 

“ Perhaps,” said the candidate, “ it isn’t too late 
yety to offer you a trifling accommodation of the 
sort ?” 

“No, it aint too late at all,” answered Simon with 
admirable naiveU; “ I could take a twenty, to right 
smart advantage yet !” 

The office-seeker’s pocket book was out in a twink- 
ling, and a bank note transferred therefrom to Suggs’ 
vest pocket. 

“ Of course, without the slightest reference to this 
little transaction, my dear Colonel, I count on your 
help.” 

“ Give us your hand,” said Suggs between his 
sobs — for the disinterested generosity of his com- 
panion had moved him to weeping — and they shook 
hands with great cordiality. 

“ You’ll use your influence with your senator and 
other friends 

“ Look me in the eye !” replied the Captain with 
an almost tragic air. 

The candidate looked steadily, for two seconds, in 
Simon’s tearful eye. 

“You see honesty thar — don’t you 

“ I do! I do!” said the candidate with emotion. 

“ That’s sufficient, aint it ?” 

“ Most amply sufficient — most amply sufficient, my 
dear Colonel” — and then they shook hands again, and 
took a drink from the tickler which the financier car- 
ried in his carpet bag. 

Suggs and his new friend travelled the remainder 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


51 


of the way to Tuskaloosa, in excellent companion- 
ship, as it was reasonable they should. They told 
their tales, sang their songs, and drank their liquor 
like a jovial pair as they were — the candidate paying 
all scores wherever they halted. And so things went 
pleasantly with Simon until his meeting with the 
tiger, which ensued immediately upon his arrival, and 
whereof we defer a description to the succeeding 
chapter. 


52 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


CHAPTER THE FIFTH. 

SIMON FIGHTS ‘^THE TIGER” AND GETS WHIPPED — BUT 

COMES OUT NOT MUCH THE “ WORSE FOR WEAR.” 

As a matter of course, the first thing that engaged 
the attention of Captain Suggs upon his arrival in 
Tuskaloosa, was his proposed attack upon his enemy. 
Indeed, he scarcely allowed himself time to bolt, 
without mastication, the excellent supper served to 
him at Duffie’s, ere he outsallied to engage the ad- 
versary. In the street, he suffered not himself to be 
beguiled into a moment’s loitering, even by the 
strange sights which under other circumstances would 
certainly have enchained his attention. The windows 
of the great drug store cast forth their blaze of varied 
light in vain ; the music of a fine amateur band pre- 
paring for a serenade, was no music for him ; he 
paused not in front of the bookseller’s, to inspect the 
prints, or the huge-lettered advertising cards. In 
short, so eager was he to give battle to the “ Tiger,” 
that the voice of the ring-master, as it came distinctly 
into the street from the circus — the sharp joke of the 
clown, and the perfectly-shadowed figures of “ Dandy 
Jack” and the other performers, whisking rapidly 
round upon the canvass — failed to shake, in the 
slightest degree, the resolute determination of the 
courageous and indomitable Captain 

As he hurried along, however, with the long stride 
of the back- woods, hardly turning his head, and to 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS, 


53 


all appearance, oblivious altogether of things exter- 
nal, he held occasional “ confabs” with himself in 
regard to the unusual objects which surrounded him — 
for Suggs is an observant man, and notes with much 
accuracy whatever comes before him, all the while a 
body would suppose him to be asleep, or in a “ tur- 
key dream” at least. On the present occasion his 
communings with himself commenced opposite the 
window of the drug-store, — “ Well, thar’s the most 
deffrunt sperrets in that grocery ever I seed ! Thar’s 
koniac, and old peach, and rectified, and lots I can’t 
tell thar names! That light-yaller bottle tho’, in the 
corner thar, that’s Tennessee! I’d know that any 
wliarl And that tother bottle’s rot-gut, ef I know 
myself — bit a drink, I reckon, as well’s the rest! 
What a power o’ likker they do keep in this here 
town ; ef I warn’t goin’ to run agin the bank, I’d 
sample some of it, too, I reether expect. But it don’t 
do for a man to sperrets much when he’s pursuin’ the 
beast — ” 

‘‘ H-11 and scissors! who ever seed the like of the 
books ! Aint thar a pile ! Do wonder what sort of 
a office them fellers in thar keeps, makes ’em want 
so many! They don’t read ’em a//, I judge! Well, 
mother- wit kin beat book-larnin, at any game ! Thar’s 
’squire Hadenskelt up home, he’s got two cart-loads 
of law books — tho’ that’s no tech to this feller’s — and 
here’s what knocked a fifty outen him once, at short 
cards, afore a right smart, active sheep could flop his 
tail ary time ; and kin do it agin, whenever he gits 
over his shyness ! Human natur’ and the human fa- 
mily IS my books, and I’ve never seed many but 


54 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


what I could hold my own with. Let me git one o’ 
these book-larnt fellers over a bottle of “old corn,” 
and a handful of the dokkyments, and Fm d — d apt 
to git what he knows, and in a ^inral way gives him 
a wrinkle into the bargain ! Books aint fitten for no- 
thin’ but jist to give to childen goin’ to school, to 
keep ’em outen mischief. As old Jed’diah used to 
say, book-larnin spiles a man ef he’s got mother- wit, 
and ef he aint got that, it don’t do him no good — ” 

“ Hello agin! Here’s a sirkis, and ef I warnt in a 
hurry, right here Pd drop a quarter, providin’ 1 
couldn’t fix it to slip in for nothin’, which is always 
the cheapest in a ginral way !” 

Thus ruminating, Simon at length reached Clare’s. 
Passing into the bar-room, he stood a moment, look- 
ing around to ascertain the direction in which he 
should proceed to find the faro banks, which he had 
heard were nightly exhibited there. In a corner of 
the room he discovered a stair-way, above which was 
burning a lurid-red lamp. Waiting for no other in- 
dication, he strode up the stairs. At the landing- 
place above he found a door which was closed and 
locked, but light came through the key-hole, and the 
sharp rattling of dice and jingling of coin, spoke con- 
clusively of the employment of the occupants of the 
room. 

Simon knocked. 

“ Hello !” said somebody within. 

“ Hello yourself!” said the Captain. 

“What do you want?” said the voice from the 
room. 

“ A game,” was the Captain’s laconic answer. 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 55 

“ What’s the name again inquired the person 
within. 

“ Cash,” said Simon. 

“He’ll do,” said another person in the room ; “let 
‘ Cash’ in.” 

The door was opened and Simon entered, half- 
blinded by the sudden burst of light which streamed 
from the chandeliers and lamps, and was reflected in 
every direction by the mirrors which almost walled 
the room. In the centre of the room was a small but 
unique “ bar,” the counter of which, except a small 
space occupied by a sliding door at which customers 
were served, was enclosed with burnished brass rods. 
Within this “ magic circle” stood a pock-marked 
clerk, who vended to the company wines and liquors 
too costly to be imbibed by any but men of fortune 
or gamesters, who, alternately rich and penniless, in- 
dulge every appetite without stint wrhile they have 
the means; eating viands and drinking wines one 
day, which a prince might not disdain, to fast entirely 
the next, or make a disgusting meal from the dirty 
counter of a miserable eating-house. Disposed at 
regular intervals around the room, were tables for the 
various games usually played ; all of them thronged 
with eager “ customers,” and covered with heavy 
piles of doubloons, and dollars, and bank notes. Of 
these tables the “ tiger” claimed three — for faro was 
predominant in those days, when a cell in the peni- 
tentiary w^as not the penalty for exhibiting it. Most 
of the persons in the room were well-dressed, and a 
large proportion members of the legislature. There 


5o ^ 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


was very little noise, no loud swearing, but very deep 
playing. 

As Simon entered, he made his rustic bow, and in 
an easy, familiar way, saluted the company with 
Good evenin’ gentleTwen.'” 

No one seemed inclined to acknowledge, on behalf 
of the company, their pleasure at seeing Captain 
Suggs. Indeed, nobody appeared to notice him at 
all after the first half second. The Captain, there- 
fore, repeated his salutation : 

‘‘ I say, GOOD evenin’, gentleme/i 

Notwithstanding the emphasis with which the 
words were re-spoken, there was only a slight laugh 
from some of the company, and the Captain began to 
feel a little awkward standing up before so many 
strangers. While he was hesitating whether to begin 
business at once by walking up to one of the faro 
tables and commencing the “ fight,” he overheard a 
young man standing a few feet from him, say to an- 
other, 

“ Jim, isn’t that your uncle, General Witherspoon, 
who has been expected here for several days wdth a 
large drove of hogs V* 

‘‘ By Jupiter,” said the person addressed, ‘‘ I believe 
it is ; though I’m not certain, as I haven’t seen him 
since I was a little fellow. But what makes you 
think it’s him : you never saw him ?” 

“No, but he suits the description given of your 
uncle, very well — white hair, red eyes, wide mouth, 
and so forth. Does your uncle gamble 

“They say he does; but my mother, who is his 
sister, knows hardly any more about him than the 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


57 


rest of the world. We’ve only seen him once in fif- 
teen years. I’ll de d — d,” he added, looking stead- 
fastly at Simon, “ if that isn’t he ! He’s as rich as 
mud, and a jovial old cock of a bachelor, so I must 
claim kin with him.” 

Simon could, of course, have no reasonable objec- 
tion to being believed to be General Thomas Wither- 
spoon, the rich hog drover from Kentucky. Not he! 
The idea pleased him excessively, and he determined 
if he was not respected as General Witherspoon for 
the remainder of that evening, it should be “ some- 
body else’s fault,” not his 1 In a few minutes, in- 
deed, it was whispered through the company, that 
the red-eyed man with white hair, was the wealthy 
field-officer who drove swine to increase his fortune , 
and in consequence of this, Simon thought he disco- 
vered a very considerable improvement in the way 
of politeness, on the part of all present. The bare 
suspicion that he was rich, was sufficient to induce 
deference and attention. 

Sauntering up to a faro bank with the intention o* 
betting, while his money should hold out, with thft 
spirit and liberality which General Witherspoon 
would have displayed had be been personally present, 
he called for 

“ Twenty, five-dollar checks, and that pretty tolo- 
ble d — d quick 1” 

The dealer handed him the red checks, and he 
piled them upon the “ ten.” 

, ‘‘ Grind on !” said Simon. 

A card or two was dealt, and the keeper, with 2 
profound bow, handed Simon twenty more red checks 


58 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


‘‘ Deal away,” said Simon, heaping the additional 
checks on the same card. 

Again the cards flew from the little box, and again 
Simon won. 

Several persons were now’ over-looking the game ; 
and among the rest, the young man who w^as so 
happy as to be the nephew of General Witherspoon, 

“ The old codger has nerve; I’ll be d — d if he 
hasn’t,” said one. 

“ And money too,” said another, ‘‘ from the way 
he bets.” 

“ To be sure he has,” said a third ; ‘‘ that’s the 
rich hog drover from Kentucky.” 

By this time Simon had won seven hundred dol- 
lars. But the Captain was not at all disposed to dis- 
continue. “ Now !” he thought w’as the “ golden 
moment” in w^hich to press his luck; “now!” the 
hour of the “ tiger’s” doom, when he should be com- 
pletely flayed. 

“ That brings the fat in great fleeks as big as my 
arm !” observed the Captain, as he won the fifth con- 
secutive bet : “ it’s hooray, brother John, every fire 
a turkey! as the boy said. Here goes again!” and 
he staked his winnings and the original stake on the 
Jack. 

“Gracious heavens! General, I wouldn’t stake so 
much on a single card,” said a young man who was 
inclined to boot-lick any body suspected of having 
money. 

“ You wouldn’t, young man,” said the Captain, 
turning round and facing him, “ bekase you never 
tote a pile of that size.” 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 59 

The obtrusive individual shrunk back under this 
rebuke, and the crowd voted Simon not only a man 
of spunk, but a man of wit. 

At this moment the Jack won, and the Captain 
was better off, by fifteen hundred dollars, than when 
he entered the saloon. 

“ That’s better — jist the least grain in the world 
better — than drivin’ hogs from Kaintucky and sellin’ 
’em at four cents a pound!” triumphantly remarked 
Suggs. 

The nephew of General Witherspoon was now 
confident that Captain Suggs was his uncle. He ac- 
cordingly pushed up to him with — ’ 

“ Don’t you know me, uncle ?” at the same time 
extending his hand. 

Captain Suggs drew himself up with as much dig- 
nity as he supposed the individual whom he person- 
ated would have assumed, and remarked that he did 
not know the young man then in his immediate pre- 
sence. 

“ Don’t know me, uncle. Why, I’m James Pey- 
ton, your sister’s son. She has been expecting you 
for several days said the much-humbled nephew of 
the hog drover. 

“ All very well, Mr. Jeemes Peyton, but as this 
little world of ourn is tolloble d — d full of rascally 
impostors ; and gentlemen of my — that is to say — you 
see — persons that have got somethin’, is apt to be 
tuk in, it stands a man in hand to be a leetle pertic- 
ler. So jist answer me a strait forrard question or 
two,” said the Captain, subjecting Mr. Peyton to a 
test, which if applied to himself, would have blown 


60 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


him sky-high. But Simon was determined to place 
his own identity as General Witherspoon above sus- 
picion, by seeming to suspect something wrong about 
Mr. James Peyton. 

“ Oh,” said several of the crowd, every body 
knows he’s the widow Peyton’s son, and your nephew, 
of course.” 

“ Wait for the wagin, gentlemen,” said Simon ; 
“every body has give me several sons, which, as I 
aint married, I don’t want, and” added he with a 
very facetious wink and smile, “ I don’t care about 
takin’ a nephy on the same terms without he’s gini- 
wine.” 

“ Oh, he’s genuine,” said several at once. 

“ Hold on, gentlemen; this young man might want 
to borrow money of me — ” 

Mr. Peyton protested against any such supposition. 

“Oh, well!” said the Captain, “/ might want to 
borrow of yon, and — ” 

Mr. Peyton signified his willingness to lend his 
uncle the last dollar in his pocket book. 

“ Very good ! very good I but I happen to be a little 
notiony about sich matters. It aint every man I’d 
borrer from. Before I handle a man’s money in the 
way of borrerin, in the fust place I must know him to 
be a gentleman ; in the second place, he must be my 
friend ; and in the third place, I must think he’s both 
able and willin’ to afford the accommodation” — and 
the Captain paused and looked around to receive the 
applause which he knew must be elicited by the 
magnanimity of the sentiment. 

The applause did come ; and the crowd thought 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


bl 


while they gave it, how difficult and desirable a thing 
it would be, to lend money to General Thomas Wi- 
therspoon, the rich hog drover. 

The Captain now resumed his examination of Mr. 
Peyton. 

“ What’s your mother’s fust name ?” he asked. 

“ Sarah,” said Mr. Peyton meekly. 

Right! so fur,” said the Captain, with a smile of 
approval: “how many children has she?” 

“ Two : myself and brother Tom.” 

“Right again!” observed the Captain. “Tom, 
gentlem^Ti,” added he, turning to the crowd, and ven- 
turing a shrewd guess ; “ Tom, gentlemen, w'as 
named arter me. Warn’t he, sir?” said he to Mr. 
Peyton, sternly. 

“ He was, sir — his name is Thomas Witherspoon.” 

Captain Suggs bobbed his head at the company, as 
much as to say, “ I knew it and the crowd in their 
own minds, decided that the ci-devant General Wi- 
therspoon was “ a devilish sharp old cock” — and the 
crowd wasn’t far out of the w^ay. 

Simon was not acting in this matter without an ob- 
ject. He intended to make a bold attempt to win a 
small fortune, and he thought it quite possible he 
should lose the money he had won ; in which case it 
would be convenient to have the credit of General 
Witherspoon to operate upon. 

“ GentlemcTi,” said he to the company, with whom 
he had become vastly popular ; “ your attention, one 
moment, ef you please !” 

The company accorded him its most obsequious at- 
tention. 


62 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


“ Come here, Jeemes !” 

Mr. James Peyton approached to within eighteen 
inches of his supposititious uncle, who raised his 
hands above the young man’s head, in the most im- 
pressive manner. 

“ One and all, gentleme/i,” said he, “ I call on you 
to witness that I reckognize this here young man as 
my proper, giniwine nephy — my sister Sally’s son ; 
and wish him respected as sich. Jeemes, hug your 
old uncle !” 

Young Mr. James Peyton and Captain Simon 
Suggs then embraced. Several of the bystanders 
laughed, but a large majority sympathized with the 
Captain. A few wept at the affecting sight, and one 
person expressed the opinion that nothing so soul- 
moving had ever before taken place in the city of 
Tuskaloosa. As for Simon, the tears rolled down 
his face, as naturally as if they had been called forth 
by real emotion, instead of being pumped up me- 
chanically to give effect to the scene. 

Captain Suggs now renewed the engagement with 
the tiger, which had been temporarily suspended that 
he might satisfy himself of the identity of James Pey- 
ton. But the ‘‘fickle goddess,” jealous of his atten- 
tion to the nephew of General Witherspoon, had de- 
serted him in a pet. 

“ Thar goes a dozen d — d fine, fat hogs !” said the 
Captain, as the bank w^on a bet of two hundred 
dollars. 

Suggs shifted about from card to card, but the 
bank won always ! At last he thought it best to re- 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 63 

turn to the ‘‘ ten,” upon which he bet five hundred 
dollars. 

“ Now, ni wool you,” said he. 

“Next time!” said the dealer, as he threw the 
winning card upon his own pile. 

“That makes my hogs squeal,” said the Captain; 
and every body admired the fine wit and nerve of the 
hog drover. 

In half an hour Suggs was “ as flat as a flounder.” 
Not a dollar remained of his winnings or his original 
stake. It was, therefore, time to “ run his face,” or 
rather, the “ face” of General Witherspoon. 

“ Could a body bet a few mighty fine bacon hogs, 
agin money at this table ?” he inquired. 

The dealer would be happy to accommodate the 
General, upon his word of honor. 

It was not long before Suggs had bet off a very 
considerable number of the very fine hogs in General 
Witherspoon’s uncommonly fine drove. He began 
to feel, too, as if a meeting with the veritable drover 
might be very disagreeable. He began, therefore, to 
entertain serious notions of borrowing some money 
and leaving in the stage, that night, for Greensboro’. 
Honor demanded, however, that he should “ settle” 
to the satisfaction of the dealer. He accordingly 
called 

“ Jeences!” 

Mr. Peyton responded very promptly to the call. 

“ Now,” said Simon, “ Jeemes, I’m a little behind 
to this gentleman here, and I’m obleeged to go to 
Greensboro’ in to-night’s stage, on account of seein’ 
ef I can engage pork thar. Now ef I shouldn’t be 


64 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


here, when my hogs come in, do you, Jeemes, take 
this gentleman to wharever the boys puts ’em up, and 
let him pick thirty of the finest in the drove. D’ye 
hear, Jeemes ?” 

James promised to attend to the delivery of the 
hogs. 

“Is that satisfactory?” asked Simon. 

“ Perfectly,” said the dealer ; “ let’s take a drink.” 

Before the Captain went up to the bar to drink, he 
patted “ Jeemes” upon the shoulder, and intimated 
that he desired to speak to him privately. Mr. Pey- 
ton was highly delighted at this mark of his rich 
uncle’s confidence, and turned his head to see whe- 
ther the company noted it. Having ascertained that 
they did, he accompanied his uncle to an unoccupied 
part of the saloon. 

“ Jeemes,” said the Captain thoughtfully, “ has 
your — mother bought — her — her — pork yet ?” 

James said she had not. 

“Well, Jeemes, when my drove comes in, do you 
go down and pick her out ten of the best. Tell the 
boys to show you them new breed — the Berkshears.” 

Mr. Peyton made his grateful acknowledgements 
for his uncle’s generosity, and they started back to- 
wards the crowd. Before they had advanced more 
than a couple of steps, however — 

“ Stop !” said Simon, “ I’d like to a’ forgot. Have 
you as much as a couple of hunderd by you, Jeemes, 
that I could use twell I git back from Greensboro’?” 

Mr. Peyton was very sorry he hadn’t more than 
fifty dollars about him. His uncle could take that, 


^ CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 65 

however— as he did forthwith — and he would ‘‘jump 
about” and get the balance in ten minutes. 

“ Don’t do it, ef it’s any trouble at all, Jeemes,” 
said the Captain cunningly. 

But Mr. James Peyton was determined that he 
would “raise the wind” for his uncle, let the “ trou- 
ble” be what it might ; and so energetic were his 
endeavours, that in a few moments he returned to 
the Captain and handed him the desired amount. 

“ Much obleeged to you, Jeemes ; I’ll remember 
you for this and no doubt the Captain has kept his 
word ; for whenever he makes a promise which it 
costs nothing to perform. Captain Simon Suggs is the 
most punctual of men. 

After Suggs had taken a glass of “ sperrets” with 
his friend the dealer — whom he assured he considered 
the “ smartest and cleverest” fellow out of Kentucky 
— he wished to retire. But just as he was leaving, 
it was suggested in his hearing, that an oyster supper 
would be no inappropriate way of testifying his joy at 
meeting his clever nephew and so many true-hearted 
friends. 

“ Ah, gentlemen, the old hog drover’s broke now, 
or he’d be proud to treat to something of the sort. 
They’ve knocked the leaf fat outen him to-night, in 
wads as big as mattock handles,” observed Suggs, 
looking at the bar-keeper out of the corner of his left 
eye. 

“ Any thing this house affords is at the disposal of 
General Witherspoon,” said the bar-keeeper. 

“ Well ! well !” said Simon, “you’re all so clever, 
29 


66 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


I must stand it I suppose, tho’ I oughtn’t to be so ex- 
travagant.” 

“ Take the crowd, sir?” 

“ Certainly,” said Simon. 

How much champagne. General ?” 

I reckon we can make out with a couple of bas- 
kets,” said the Captain, who was determined to sus- 
tain any reputation for liberality which General Wi- 
therspoon might, perchance, possess. 

' There was a considerable ringing of bells for a 
brief space, and then a door which Simon hadn’t be- 
fore seen, was thrown open, and the company usher- 
ed into a handsome supping apartment. Seated at 
the convivial board, the Captain outshone himself; 
and to this day, some of the hon mots which escaped 
him on that occasion, are remembered and repeated. 

At length, after the proper quantity of champagne 
and oysters had been swallowed, the young man 
whom Simon had so signally rebuked early in the 
evening, rose and remarked that he had a sentiment 
to propose: ‘‘I give you, gentlemen,” said he, ‘Uhe 
health of General Witherspoon. Long may he live, 
and often may he visit our city and partake of its 
hospitalities!” 

Thunders of applause followed this toast, and 
Suggs, as in duty bound, got up in his chair to 
respond. 

“ GentleTwen,” said he “ I’m devilish glad to see 
you all, and much obleeged to you, besides. You 
are the finest people I ever was amongst, and treat 
me a d — d sight better than they do at home” — 
which w^as a fact! Hows’ever, I’m a poor hand to 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


67 


speak, but here’s wishing of luck to you all” — and 
then wickedly seeming to blunder in his little speech 
— ‘‘ and if I forgit you, I’ll be d — d if you’ll ever for- 
git me !” 

Again there was a mixed noise of human voices, 
plates, knives and forks, glasses and wine bottles, and 
then the company agreed to disperse. “What a 
noble-hearted fellow !” exclaimed a dozen in a breath, 
as they were leaving. 

As Simon and Peyton passed out, the bar-keeper 
handed the former a slip of paper, containing such 
items as — “ twenty-seven dozen of oysters, twenty- 
seven dollars ; two baskets of champagne, thirty-six 
dollars,” — making a grand total of sixty-three dol- 
lars. 

The Captain, who “ felt his wine,” only hiccough- 
ed, nodded at Peyton, and observed. 

“ Jeemes, you’ll attend to this ?” 

“Jeemes” said he would, and the pair walked 
out and bent their way to the stage- office, where the 
Greensboro’ coach was already drawn up. Simon 
wouldn’t wake the hotel keeper to get his saddle- 
bags, because, as he said, he would probably return 
in a day or two. 

“ Jeemes,” said he, as he held that individual’s 
hand ; “ Jeemes, has your mother bought her pork 
yet ?” 

“ No, sir,” said Peyton, “ you know you told me 
to take ten of your hogs for her — don’t you recol- 
lect.?” 

“ Don’t do that,” said Simon, sternly. 

Peyton stood aghast ! “ Why sir he asked. 


68 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


fake twenty!” said the Captain, and wringing 
the hand he held, he bounced into the coach, which 
whirled away, leaving Mr. James Peyton on the 
pavement, in profound contemplation of the bound- 
less generosity of his uncle, General Thomas Wither- 
spoon of Kentucky! 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


69 


CHAPTER THE SIXTH. 

SIMON SPECULATES AGAIN. 

There are few of the old settlers of the Cr^ek ter- 
ritory in Alabama, who do not recollect the great In- 
dian Council held at Dudley’s store, in Tallapoosa 
county, in September of the year 1835. In those 
days, an occasion of the sort drew together white man 
and Indian from all quarters of the “ nation” — the 
one to cheat, the other to be cheated. The agent 
appointed by the Government to “ certify” the sales 
of Indian lands was always in attendance ; so that the 
scene was generally one of active traffic. The indus- 
trious speculator, with his assistant, the wily inter- 
preter, kept unceasingly at work in the business of 
fraud ; and by every species and art of persuasion, 
sought — and, sooner or later, succeeded — in drawing 
the untutored children of the forest into their nets. 
If foiled once, twice, thrice, a dozen times, still they 
kept up the pursuit. It was ever the constant trail- 
ing of the slow-track dog, from whose fangs there 
w- as no final escape ! 

And where are these speculators now? — those lords 
of the soil ! — the men of dollars — the fortune-makers 
who bought with hundreds what was worth thou- 
sands! — they to whom every revolution of the sun 
brought a redu{51ication of their wealth I Where are 
they, and what are they, now! They have been 
smitten by the hand of retributive justice ! The curse 


70 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


of their victims has fastened upon them, and nine out 
of ten are houseless, outcast, bankrupt ! In the flit- 
ting of ten years, the larger portion have lost money, 
lands, character, every thing! And the few who 
still retain somewhat of their once lordly possessions, 
mark its steady, unaccountable diminution, and strive 
vainly to avert their irresistible fate — an old age of 
shame and beggary. They are cursed, all of them — 
blighted, root and trunk and limb I The Creek is 
avenged ! Avenged, and for what! ask you, reader? 
Let us tell you a little story ! 

We knew, at the period to which this chapter re- 
fers, an Indian who refused to sell his land on any 
terms. He was a sturdy, independent fellow ; one' of 
the few who would not be contaminated by inter- 
course with the whites. His land was very valuable, 
and many speculators were, therefore, anxious to pur- 
chase it. So desirable was it, that several would, 
perhaps, have paid the “ Sky chief” half its actual 
value to obtain it ; but the “ Sky chief” resolutely 
persisted in resisting all their arts ; and he was too 
well known to make it practicable to get it, by hiring 
some thieving Indian to personate him before the cer 
tifying agent. But ‘‘ Sudo Micco” had a daughter, 
a very pretty girl of fifteen — slightly made, with a 
Grecian face, and long coal-black hair ; and her name 
was Litka. Well I Litka went to a dance — the green 
corn dance of her people — and it was conceded, that 
in her new calico frock and profusion of blue and red 
ribbons, and her silver buckles, she was the hand- 
somest girl on the ground. Among her admirers was 
a young man named Eggleston — a sub-partner, oi 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


71 


striker,” of the great Columbus Land Company. 
Eggleston told a sweet tale to the Indian girl, and 
she — as he was a very handsome young man — be- 
lieved it all. He told her that he would marry hei 
and take care of her, and of her father ; and that when 
the rest of the tribe should be forced to Arkansas, 
they could stay with him in their old home, by the 
graves of their fathers. The ‘‘ long and short” of all 
this was, that the white man and Indian girl were 
married according to the Creek custom ; Sudo Micco 
having willingly assented to an arrangement by which 
he expected to be permitted to remain upon the soil 
which contained the bones of his ancestors. For a 
few months Eggleston treated Litka and Sudo Micco 
very well, and they confided in him implicitly. Then 
he told his wife that her father must “ certify” his 
land to him, or ‘‘ bad white men” might contrive to 
get it. Litka told the old “ Sky chief” what her 
husband said, and the simple-minded Indian said it 
was “ a good talk,” and that his “ white man son” 
should do as he pleased. So the “ Sky chief” ‘‘cer- 
tified” his land to his son-in-law ; and the certifying 
agent saw a thousand silver dollars paid to the In- 
dian, who within ten minutes afterwards returned 
them. Then Eggleston deserted Litka, and sold the 
land for three thousand dollars. Sudo Micco fumed 
and raved — but what good could that do.? And 
Litka, poor thing! was almost broken-hearted. And 
last of all, Sudo Micco begged his son-in-law, as he 
had got his land for nothing, and his daughter was 
too near her confinement to travel on foot, to get him 
a little wagon and a horse to take them to Arkansas. 


72 CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 

But Eggleston laughed in his face, and told him tha: 
a wagon would cost too much money. So Sudo 
Micco was compelled to wait until the Government 
removed his people ; and then he went in one of the 
“public” wagons, among the of his tribe. 

For this, and such as this — as we have shown — is 
THE Creek avenged ! 

But wre set out to tell about the council at Dud- 
ley’s, and here we are writing episodes about Creek 
frauds, as long almost, as the catalogue of Creek 
WTongs! We will come back to the starting point. 
It w^as a right beautiful sight to look at — the camp- 
fires of five thousand Indians, that burned at every 
point of the circular ridge which enclosed Dudley’s 
trading establishment ; and it w^as thrilling to hear the 
wild whoopings, and wilder songs of the “ natives,” 
as they danced and capered about their respective 
encampments — on the first night of the council. It 
was a little alarming too, to witness the occasional 
miniature battle between “ towns” which, like the 
Highland clans, had their feuds of immemorable date. 

“Coop! coop! hee!” shouts a champion of the 
Cohomutka-Gartska town, the principal family of 
which was that which rejoiced in the name of 
“ Deer.” “ The Oakfuskee people are all cowards 
— they run like rabbits! They are liars! They 
have tw’o tongues ! Coop ! coop ! hee-e-e ! the Alli- 
gator family is mixed-blooded ! they come from the 
runaway Seminole and the runlet-making Cherokee ! 
The “ Deer” people can beat the Alligator people till 
they beg for their hides !” Then the representative 
of the chivalrous “Deer” people struts before his 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS, 


73 


camp-fire, gesticulating violently, and expressing his 
contempt of his Alligator brethren, by all sorts of 
grotesque attitudes ; while the women and children 
about the fire, declare that Cho-yoholo, (the Scream- 
ing Deer,) is a great warrior, and can flog every Al- 
ligator of them all by himself. 

Presently, a representative of the Oakfuskee town, 
and the Alligator family, strides out in front of his 
temporary lodge, which is about a hundred yards 
from the encampment of his hostile neighbours. 

“Eep! eep! e-e-e-yah!” he shouts, so shrilly that 
your “ skin creeps.” The dog of Cohomutka- 
Gartska brags like a child, but his heart is the heart 
of the poor little toad, that tries to hop away at dusk 
from the black-snake ! The Alligators are brave ; 
their hearts are big and full of red blood. If the 
thieving Deer people will send one of their best war- 
riors half-way, the Alligator people wull send an old 
woman to meet him! Eep! eep! e-e-e-yah!” And 
then Hulputta Hardjo (Mad Alligator,) slaps his 
hands upon his hips, and turns contemptuously away. 

In a few moments the ‘‘Alligators” and “Deer,” 
and all their friends, are engaged pell mell, in a fight 
wdth clubs, rocks, knives, teeth, hands and toes; 
while the Indians in their neighbourhood, who have 
no particular interest in the affray, hold torches to 
enable the combatants on both sides, to deal their 
blows more effectively. 

As a matter of course, our friend and hero the Cap- 
tain, was at the council. He was never known to 
absent himself from any such congregation. If out 
of funds, he went to “ recruit;” if he had a “ stake, 


74 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


he attended that the “ Tiger” — which then was peri- 
patetic and almost omnipresent, because at that 
time our supreme court judges had not muzzled him 
— might have an opportunity of devouring it. On 
the present occasion he really had business ; for he 
had brought with him to be “ certified” — that is, to 
submit for the approval of the government agent, a 
contract for the sale of her land — an Indian woman, 
whose “ reserve” was an excellent one. Simon had 
contracted to pay her two hundred dollars and three 
blankets for it ; and as she happened to take a liking 
to him, she preferred that he should have it at that 
price, to selling to others who were offering her a 
thousand. In this, the “ Big Widow” but illustrated 
a waywardness, amounting to absolute stupidity, 
which was common among the Creeks. It was in 
vain that she was assailed on all hands, and persuaded 
to accept a larger price. “ The Mad Bird,” — so was 
the Captain called by the Indians — she would ob- 
serve, would give her three blankets and two 
hundred dollars, and she would give him her land. 
The Mad Bird was a good friend, and had a sweet 
tongue ; and if she gave her land to any body else, 
he would have the “ big mad,” and then he wouldn’t 
give her tobacco and sweet water any more. 

There was but one obstacle in the way of the Cap- 
tain’s making a very handsome speculation ; but that 
was a very serious one under present circumstances : 
he did’t happen to have the money. True, we have 
said in another chapter, that the Captain disdained to 
embark in speculations requiring the investment of 
cash capital ; ^ut the reader must do us the justice to 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


75 


recollect, that there is no rule without an excep- 
tion.” In a general way, we know we have asserted, 
and we here reassert, that Simon Suggs could, 
by the force of his own genius, speculate without 
funds ; but we would like to know how any reason- 
able man could expect Captain Suggs, or any one 
else, to purchase an Indian’s land without money, 
when by an act of Congress it was requisite that the 
appraised price should be paid in the presence of the 
agent. Could the Captain but have had the use, fo! 
only ten minutes, of two liundred dollars, he could 
easily have owned the Big Widow’s “ low grounds,” 
and paid the money back, too, had he chosen so to 
do. Unfortunately, however, such a loan was not to 
be obtained, and his efforts to “ make the raise,” 
caused it to be known that he had no means of pay- 
ing the widow for her land at that time. This fact — 
for it was so regarded, very correctly — gave each of 
a half-dozen other speculators on the ground, encour- 
agement to hope that he might be the lucky purcha- 
ser. They then beset the old woman, one after ano- 
ther, so that she had scarcely time to cook the sophky 
for her children, or drink a spoonful herself. Still 
she resolutely adhered to her promise to the Mad 
Bird, and would not sell to any other. At length the 
Captain hit upon an expedient, and calling together 
his rivals at the widow’s camp, he harangued them : 

‘‘ Gentlemen,” said he, ‘‘ you all know this here 
old widder Injun is under promise to me, to sell me 
her land ! Now I takes it to be d — d ongentlemanly, 
gentlemen, that you all, bein’ in the same line o’ bu- 
siness with myself, should endeavour to take advaiv- 


76 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


tage of a feller’s bein’ a leetle low down, and steal 
his hoTiest contract. But, hows’ever, gentlemen, that’s 
not the pint of my discourse, which are shortly this : 
ef any of you, gentlemen, will shell out the necessary 
trimmins, so’s that the old lady, here, can pass mus- 
ter before the agent. I’ll let him have an even intrust 
with me in the land ! Which of you’ll do it, gentle- 
men ? — don’t all speak at oncet !” 

Colonel Bryan whispered to General Lawson, and 
Major Taylor whispered to Mr. Goodwin ; and then 
they all whispered together, and then they all stopped 
and looked at one another, as not knowing what to 
say. 

“ Out wuth it, gentlemen,” exclaimed Simon, 
“ don’t spile the shape on it, by keepin’ it in!” 

! ‘‘ Can’t stand it, Simon,” said Lawson. 

‘‘ As good as wheat!” replied Simon ; but I’ll eat 
Satan raw and onsalted, ef any of you ever git a foot 
of that land. I’m not quite as fur down as you think. 
There’s an old friend of mine not twenty mile from 
here, that’s got three or four hamper baskets-full o’ 
Mexicans, and I guess I can git a bushel or so, jist 
to ease the pain, twell a feller can git the chance to 
have the tooth drawd !” Then turning to the Big 
Widow, and indicating with his finger the point in 
the heavens at which the sun would be the next 
morning at ten 'o’clock, he told her, if he was not 
back by the time it got there, she might believe that 
he had failed to procure the money, and sell to whom 
she pleased. He then mounted his pony and gal- 
loped off. 

The next day, at a very early hour, the specula 



* Mr. SuggJ*/ said he, • Td like to have an interest in your contract, and I’m 
williug to pay for it; I’ll find the money to pay the Indian.’ ” — Page 79. 


r 




f 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


79 


tors weie tugging at the Big Widow, each striving to 
induce her to sell to himself in case Simon should not re- 
turn, upon which they all confidently calculated. Each 
made so tempting an offer, that the poor woman knew 
not which to accept; or rather, she accepted them all 
in turn. The land was worth fifteen hundred dollars, 
and eight hundred were already bid when Simon’s 
limit was within a half hour of its expiration. At 
length the sun reached the ten o’clock point, and the 
Captain not appearing, the rivals, among them, 
pushed and pulled the old squaw up to the shed un- 
der which the agent was ‘‘ certifying.” Here a gene- 
ral fight ensued ; Colonel Bryan striking Major Tay- 
lor across the nose in the enthusiasm of the moment ; 
and General Lawson doing something of the same 
sort for Mr. Goodwin, because he apprehended that 
the row would become general, and that those would 
fare best, who struck soonest and hardest. 

Just at this ' moment Simon dashed up at full 
speed. 

‘‘ Don’t break all the crockery, gentlemen,” he 
shouted. ‘‘ Jist give a poor man a chance to make 
an honest contract, won’t ye !” 

‘‘ The Mad Bird has come back, I will give my 
land to him,” said the Big Widow, approaching Si- 
mon, who had dismounted, and was bending beneath 
the weight of a very plethoric pair of saddle-bags. 

The fighting ceased when Suggs made his appear- 
ance, and there was a moment’s silence. The first 
to break it w^as General Lawson. “ Mr. Suggs.” 
said he, “ I’d like to have an interest in your con- 
tract, and I’m willing to pay for it. I’ll find the 


80 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


money to pay the Indian, and give you an interest of 
one-third.” 

“ Not ’thout I was willing — would ye asked 
Suggs jeeringly. 

“ I’ll do better than that,” said Taylor, wiping the 
blood from his nose ; “ I’ll furnish the money and 
give you half the land sells for when we part with 
It!” 

‘‘ Very pro verbly,” remarked Simon, “ very pro 
verbly I But onless some on ye counts me out five 
hundred, and furnishes your own money to buy the 
land, I shall have to onlock these here,” patting his 
saddle-bags, “ and buy it for myself.” 

‘‘I’ll do it!” said Colonel Bryan, who had been 
making a calculation on the inside of the crown of 
his hat--“ I’ll do it!” 

“ Ah !” said Suggs, “ that^s what made the chick- 
en’s squall ! You*re the man I’m a-huntin’ ! Draw 
your weepins !” 

The land was forthwith “ certified” to Suggs, who 
immediately transferred it to Bryan. 

“ Now, gentlemen,” said the Captain, every body’s 
satisfied — aint they ?” 

“ If they ainty they ought to be,” replied Colonel 
Bryan, who was delighted with his bargain. 

“ I think so too,’^ remarked Suggs, “ and bein’ as 
that’s the case,” he continued, opening his saddle- 
bags, “ I’ll throw out these here rocks and old iron^ 
for its mighty tiresome to a horse !” and the Captain 
did throw out the rocks and old iron ! 

The speculators vanished ! 

“ This here’s a mighty hard world,” murmured the 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


81 


Captain to himself, musingly, ‘‘ to git along in. Ef 
a feller don’t make every aidge cut, he’s in the back- 
ground directly. It’s tile and strive, and tussle 
every way, to make an honest livin’. Well !” he 
continued, in a strain of unusual piety, as he threw 
up and caught again, a rouleau of dollars ; “ Well ! 
thari^ a Providence that purvides; and ef a man will 
only stand squar’ up to what’s right, it will prosper 
his endeavours to make somethin’ to feed his children 
on ! Yes, thar is a Providence ! I should like to 
see the man would say thar aint. I don’t hold with 
no sich. Ef a man says thar aint no Providence, you 
may be sure thar’s something wrong striking 

in the region of his vest pocket — ‘‘ and that man will 
swindle you, ef he can — certin !” 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


\ 


82 


CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. 

SIMON BECOMES CAPTAIN. 

By reference to memoranda^ contemporaneously 
taken, of incidents to be recorded in the memoirs of 
Captain Suggs, we find that we have reached the 
most important period in the history of our hero — his 
assumption of a military command. And we beg the 
reader to believe, that we approach this portion of our 
subject with a profound regret at our own incapacity 
for its proper illumination. Would that thy pen, O ! 
Kendall, were ours! Then would thy hero and ours 
— the nation’s Jackson and the country’s Suggs — go 
down to far posterity, equal in fame and honors, as in 
deeds 1 But so the immortal gods have not decreed I 
Not to Suggs was Amos given ! Aye, jealous of his 
mighty feats, the thundering Jove denied an historian 
worthy of his puissance ! Would that, like Caesar, 
he could write himself! Then, indeed, should Har- 
vard yield him honors, and his country — justice ! 

Early in May of the year of grace — and excessive 
bank issues — 1S36, the Creek war was discovered to 
have broken out. During that month several persons, 
residing in the county of Tallapoosa, were cruelly 
murdered by the “ inhuman savages and an ex- 
ceedingly large number of the peaceful citizens of the 
state — men, women and children — excessively fright- 
ened. Consternation seized all! “ Shrieks inhuman” 
rent the air! The more remote from the scenes of 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


83 


blood, the greater the noise. The yeomanry of the 
country — those to whom, as we are annually told, the 
nation looks with confidence in all her perils — packed 
up their carts and wagons, and incontinently” de- 
parted for more peaceful regions! We think w^e see 
them now, “ strung along the road,” a day or two 
after the intelligence of the massacres below’ had 
reached the ‘‘ settlement” of Captain Suggs! There 
goes old man Simmons, with his wife and three 
daughters, together with two feather beds, a few 
chairs, and a small assortment of pots and ovens, in 
a cart draw’n by a bob-tail, gray pony. On the top- 
most bed, and forming the apex of this pile of ani- 
mate and inanimate luggage,” sits the old tom-cat, 
vrhom the youngest daughter would not suffer to re- 
main lest he might come to harm. “ Who knows,” 
she exclaims, ‘‘ lohat they might do to the poor old 
fellow .^” On they toil ! the old man’s head, ever and 
anon, turned back to see if they are pursued by the 
remorseless foe ; while the wdfe and daughters scream 
clirefully, every ten minutes, as they discover in the 
distance a cow or a hog — “ Oh, they’ll kill us! they’ll 
skelp us! they’ll tar us all to pieces! Oh, Lord! dad- 
dy! oh. Lord!” But the old tom-cat sits there, 
gravely and quietly, the very incarnation of tom phi- 
losophy ! 

It was on Sunday that the alarm was sounded in 
the Suggs settlement,” and most of the neighbours 
were in attendance upon the ‘‘preaching of the 
word” by brother Snufflenosey, at Poplar Spring 
meeting-house, when the “ runner” w^ho brought the 
woful tidings, disclosed them at old Tom Rollins’,'by 
-30 


84 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


yelling, as he sat on his horse before the door, — “ the 
Injuns is a-killin every body below ! I amt got time 
to stop ! tell the neighbours!” Now, old Mr. Rollins 
and the gals” were already at meeting, but the old 
lady, having staid behind “ to fix up a leetle,” was, 
at the identical moment of the messenger’s arrival, m 
chemise before a very small glass set in a frame of red 
paper, preparing to adorn her person with divers new 
articles of apparel, inclusive of a new blue-and* red- 
calico gown. But no sooner did her mind compre- 
hend the purport of the words from without, than she 
sprang out of the house, “ accoutred as she was,” 
shrieking at every bound, “the Injuns! the In- 
juns!” — nor stopped until with face, neck, and bosom 
crimson as a strutting gobbler’s snout, she burst into 
the meeting-house, and having once more screamed 
“the Injuns!” fell exhausted, at full length, upon the 
floor. “ Will any of the breethring lend me a horse?” 
asked the Reverend Mr. Snufflenosey, wildly, as he 
bounded out of the pulpit, in very creditable style — 
“ Wont none of you lend me one?” he repeated em- 
phatically; and obtaining no answer, dashed off’ pre- 
cipitately afoot ! Then went up to Heaven the screams 
of fifty frightened women, in one vast discord, more 
dreadful than the war-squalls of an hundred cats in 
fiercest battle. Men, too, looked pale and trembled ; 
while, strange to relate, all of the dozen young babies 
in attendance silently dilated their astonished eyes — 
struck utterly dumb at being so signally beaten at 
their own peculiar game ! 

At length an understanding was somehow effected, 
that Taylor’s store, five miles thence, should be the 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


85 


place of rendezvous, for that night at least ; and then 
Mr. Snufflenosey’s congregation tumbled itself forth 
as expeditiously as was possible. 

‘‘ Simon was ‘‘ duly” at the store with his family, 
when the wagon, cart, and pony loads of ‘‘ badly- 
scared” mortality began to arrive in the afternoon. 
He was there of course, and he was in his element. 
Not that Suggs is particularly fond of danger — albeit, 
Hie is a hero — but because he delighted in the noise 
^and confusion, the fun and the free drinking, incident 
to such occasions. And he enjoyed these to the ut- 
termost now, because he was well informed as to the 
state of feeling of the Indians, in all the country for 
ten miles around, and knew there was no danger. 
But Simon did not disclose this to the terrified throng 
at the store. Not he ! Suggs was never the man to 
destroy his own importance in that sort of way. On 
the contrary, he magnified the danger, and endea- 
voured to* impress upon the minds of the miscellane- 
ous crowd “then and there” assembled, that he, 
Simon Suggs, was the only man at whose hands they 
could expect a deliverance from the imminent peril 
which impended. 

“ Gentleme/i,” said he impressively, “ this here is 
a critercle time; the wild savage of the forest are be- 
ginnin’ of a bloody, hostile war, which they’re not 
a-goin’ to spar nither age nor sek — not even to the 
women and children !” 

“ Gracious Lord above I what is a body to do !” 
exclaimed the portly widow Haycock, who was ac- 
counted wealthy, in consideration of the fact that she 
b^d a hundred dollars in money, and was the un- 


86 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


disputed owner of one entire negro — ‘‘ we shall all be 
skelped, and our truck all burnt up and destr’yed ! 
What shall we do !” 

‘‘ That’s the question,” remarked Simon, as he 
stooped to draw a glass of whiskey from a barrel of 
that article — the only thing on sale in the “ store” — 
“ that’s the question. Now, as for you women- 
folks” — here Suggs dropped a lump of brown sugar 
in his whiskey, and began to stir it with his finger, 
looking intently in the tumbler, the while — ‘‘ as for 
you women-folks, it’s plain enough what you\e got 
to do” — here Simon tasted the liquor and added a 
little more sugar — “ plain enough! You’ve only got 
to look to the Lord and hold your jaws ; for that’s all 
you Idn do ! But what’s the ’sponsible men” — tak- 
ing his finger out of the tumbler, and drawing it 
through his mouth — “ of this crowd to do ? The 
inemy will be down upon us right away, and before 
mornin’ ” — Simon drank half the whiskey — “ blood 
will flow like — like” — the Captain was bothered for 
a simile, and looked around the room for one, but 
finding none, continued — “ like all the world ! Yes, 
like all the world” — an idea suggested itself — “and 
the Tallapussey river ! It’ll pour out,” he continued, 
as his fancy got rightly to work, “ like a great guljin 
ocean ! — d — d ef it don’t !” And then Simon swal- 
lowed the rest of the whiskey, threw the tumbler 
down, and looked around to dbserve the effect of this 
brilliant exordium. 

The effect was tremendous ! 

Mrs. Haycock clasped her hands convulsively, and 
rolled up her eyes until the “ whites” only could be 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


87 


seen. Old Mrs. Rollins — who by this time was fully 
clothed — and her two daughters had what Simon 
termed the ‘‘ high-strikes” in one corner of the room, 
and kicked up their heels at a prodigious rate ; while 
in another, a group of young women hugged one an- 
other most affectionately, sobbing hysterically all the 
time. Old granny Gilbreth sat in the middle of the 
floor, rocking her body back and forth, striking the 
palms of her hands on the planks as she bent forward, 
and clapping them together as she re-attained the 
perpendicular. 

My apinion,” continued Simon, as he stooped to 
draw another tumbler of whiskey ; “ my apinion, folks, 
is this here. We ought to form a company right 
away, and make some man capting that aint afeard 
to fight — mind what I say, now — that-ainUafeard- 
to-Jight! — some sob er,*stiddy feller” — here he sipped 
a little from the tumbler — “ that’s a good hand to 
manage women and keep ’em from hollerin — which 
they’re a-needin’ somethin’ of the sort most damdi- 
bly, and I eech to git holt o’ that one a-making that 
devilish racket in the corner, thar” — the noise in the 
corner was suddenly suspended — ‘‘ and more’n all, a 
man that’s acquainted with the country and the ways 
of the Injuns!” Having thus spoken, Suggs drank 
off' the rest of the whiskey, threw himself into a mili- 
tary attitude, and awaited a reply. 

“ Suggs is the man,” shouted twenty voices. 

‘‘ Keep close to him, and you’ll never git hurt,’ 
said a diminutive, yellow-faced, spindle-legged young 
man. 

‘‘ D’ye think sc now exclaimed Simon furiously. 


88 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


as he “ planted” a tremendous kick on that part of 
the joker’s person at which the boot’s point is most 
naturally directed. “ D’ye think so, now ? Take 
that along, and next time keep your jaw, you slink, 
or I’ll kick more clay outen you in a minute, than 
you can eat again in a month, you durned, little, dirt- 
eatin’ deer-face !” 

“ Keep the children outen the way,” said the little 
fellow, as he lay sprawling in the farthest corner of 
the room ; “ ef y6u don’t, Cafen Suggs will w^hip 
’em alL He’s a sight on children and people what’s 
got the yaller janders 

Simon heeded not the sarcasm, but turning to the 
men he asked — 

“ Now gentlemen, who’ll you have for capting ?” 

“Suggs! Suggs! Suggs!” shouted a score and a 
half of masculine voices. 

The women said nothing~only frowned. 

“ Gentlemen,” said Simon, a smile of gratified, but 
subdued pride playing about his mouth; “ Gentle- 
TTien, my respects — ladies, the same to you !” — and 
the Captain bowed — “ I’m inore’n proud to sarve my 
country at the head of sich an independent and pa- 
triotic cumpany ! Let who will run, gentlemen, Si- 
mon Suggs will alters be found sticking thar, like a 
tick onder a cow’s belly — ” 

“ Whar do you aim to bury your dead Injuns, 
Cap’en ?” sarcastically inquired the little dirt-eater. 

“ I’ll bury yon, you little whifflin fice,” said Cap- 
tain Suggs in a rage ; and he dashed at yellow-legs 
furiously. 

“ Not afore a body’s dead, I reckon,” replied the 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


89 


lirt-eater, running round the room, upsetting the 
women and trampling the children, in his efforts 
to escape. At last he gained the door, out of which 
he bounced and ran off*. 

‘‘ Burn the little cuss,” said the Captain, when he 
saw that pursuit would be useless; “I oughtentto git 
aggrawated at him, no how. He’s a poor signifiken 
runt, that’s got the mark of the huckle-berry ponds 
on his legs yit, whar the water come to when he was 
a-getherin ’em, in his raisin’ in Northkurliny. But I 
must put a stop to sich, and that right away and 
striding to the door, out of which he thrust his head, 
he made proclamation : “ Oh yes ! gentlemen ! Oh yes ! 
This here store-house and two acres all round is now 
onder martial law! If any man or woman don’t mind 
my orders. I’ll have ’em shot right away ; and child- 
ren to be whipped accordin’ to size. By order of 
me, Simon Suggs, Capting of the” — the Captain 
paused. 

“Tallapoosy Vollantares,” suggested Dick Can- 
nifax. 

“ The Tallapoosy Vollantares,” added Suggs, 
adopting the suggestion ; “ so let every body look out, 
and walk the chalk!” 

Thus was formed the nucleus of that renowned 
band of patriot soldiers, afterwards known as the 
‘‘ Forty Thieves” — a name in the highest degree 
inappropriate, inasmuch as the company, from the 
very best evidence we have been able to procure, 
never had upon its roll, at any time, a greater num- 
ber of names than thirty-nine! 

As became a prudent commander, Captain Suggs, 


90 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


immediately after the proclamation of martial law, set 
about rendering his position as strong as possible. A 
rude rail fence near by was removed and made to en- 
close the log store, and another building of the same 
sort, which was used as a stable. The company was 
then paraded, and a big drink df alt out to each man, 
and five men were detailed to serve as sentinels, one 
at each corner of the enclosure, and one at the fence 
in front of the store door. The Captain then an- 
nounced that he had appointed Andy Snipes, “ fust 
lewtenant,” Bird Stinson ‘‘ sekkunt ditto,” and Dave 
Lyon “ sarjiint.” 

The guard was set, the women summarily quieted, 
the mass of the company stowed away in the stable 
for the night ; and the Captain and “ Lewtenant 
Snipes” sat down, with a bottle of bald-face between 
them, to a social game of ‘‘ six cards, seven up,” by 
a fire in the middle of the enclosure. About this 
time, the widow Haycock desired to possess herself 
of a certain ‘‘ plug” of tobacco, wherewithal to sup- 
ply her pipe during the watches of the night. The 
tobacco was in her cart, which, with a dozen others, 
stood in the road twenty steps or so from the front 
door. Now, as the widow Haycock was arrayed ra- 
ther grotesquely — in a red-flannel wrapper, with a 
cotton handkerchief about her head — she did not wish 
to be seen as she passed out’. She therefore noise- 
lessly slipped out, and, the sentinel having deserted 
his post for a few moments to witness the playing be- 
tween his officers, succeeded in reaching the cart un- 
observed. As she returned, however, with the weed 
of comfort in her hand, she was challenged by th» 



“ ‘ stand!’ said he, as the old lady was climbing the fence.”— Plif/e 93 














k 




I 


»» 


fl 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 93 

sentinel, who, hearing a slight noise, had come back 
to his post. 

“Stand!” said he, as the old lady was climbing 
the fence. 

“Blessed Master!” exclaimed Mrs. Haycock; but 
the soldier was too much frightened to observe that 
she spoke English, or to recognize her voice. 

“ Give the counter-sign or I’ll shoot,” said he, 
bringing his gun to a “ present,” but receding to- 
■wards the fire as he spoke. 

Instead of the counter-sign, Mrs. Haycock gave a 
scream, which the sentinel, in his fright, mistook for 
the war-whoop, and instantly fired. The widow 
dropped from the fence to the ground, on the outside, 
and the sentinel ran to the Captain’s fire. 

In a moment was heard the thundering voice of 
Captain Suggs: 

“ Turn out, men! Kumpny fo-r-m!” 

The women in the store screamed, and the com 
pany formed immediately in front of the door. The 
Captain was convinced that the alarm was a humbug 
of some sort ; but keeping up the farce, kept up his 
own importance. 

“Bring your guns to a level with your breasts, and 
fire through the cracks of the fence!” he ordered. 

An irregular volley was fired, which brought down 
a poney and a yoke of steers, haltered to their owner’s 
carts in the road ; and frightened “yellow-legs,” (who 
had ‘slyly taken lodgings in a little wagon,) nearly to 
death. 

“ Over the fence now. Hooraw! my galyunt vo- 


94 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


luntares !” shouted the Captain, made enthusiastic by 
the discharge of the guns. 

The company scaled the fence. 

“ Now charge baggonets ! Hooraw! Let ’em have 
the cold sted, my brave boys!” 

This manoeuvre was executed admirably, consider- 
ing the fact, that the company was entirely without 
bayonets or a foe. The men brought their pieces to 
the proper position, ran ten steps, and finding nothing 
else to pierce, drove the long, projecting ram- rods of 
their rifles deep in the mellow earth I 

“ Pickle all them skelps, Cap’en Suggs, or they’ll 
spile said a derisive voice, which was recognized 
as belonging to Yellow-legs, and a light form flitted 
from among the wagons and carts, and was lost in the 
darkness. 

“ Somebody kill that critter!” said Suggs, much 
excited. But the ‘‘ critter” had ‘‘ evaporated.” 

A careful examination of the field of battle was now 
made, and the prostrate bodies of the pony, the oxen, 
and the widow Haycock discovered, lying as they 
had fallen. From the last a slight moaning pro- 
ceeded. A light was soon brought. 

‘‘ What’s the matter, widder — hurt ?” inquired 
Suggs, raising up one of Mrs. Haycock’s huge legs 
upon his foot, by way of ascertaining how much life 
was left. 

“ Only dead — that’s all,” said the widow as her 
limb fell heavily upon the ground, with commendable 
resignation. 

“ Pshaw !” said Suggs, “ you aint bad hurt. Whar- 
abouts did the b'lllet hit ?” 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


95 


“All over! only shot all to pieces! It makes no 
odds tho’ — kleen through and through — Pm a-goin’ 
mighty fast!” replied the widow, as four stout men 
raised her from the ground and carried her into the 
house, where her wounds were demonstrated to con- 
sist of a contusion on the bump of philo-progenitive- 
ness, and the loss of a half square inch of the corru- 
gated integument of her left knee. 

Captain Suggs and Lieutenant Snipes now re* 
sumed their game. 

“ Lewtenant,” — said Suggs, as he dealt the cards 
— “ we must — there’s the tray for low — we must 
court-mariial that old ’oman in the mornin’.” 

“ ’Twon’t do, Capting — the tray I mean — to be 
sure we must ! She’s vierlated the rules of war!” 

“ And Yaller-legs, too /” said Suggs. 

“ Yes, yes ; and Yaller-legs too, ef we kin ketch 
him,” replied Lewtenant Snipes. 

“ Yes, d — d ef I don’t ! — court-martial ’em both, 
as sure as the sun rises — drum-head court-martial at 
that!” 


96 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. 

CAPTAIN SUGGS AND LIEUTENANT SNIPES “ COURT-MAR- 
TIAL” MRS. HAYCOCK. 

Great was the commotion at Fort Suggs on the 
morning next after the occurrence of the events re- 
lated in the last chapter. At Fort^Suggs we say — 
for so had the Captain christened “ Taylor’s store” 
and the enclosure thereof. Nor let any one repre- 
hend him for so doing. It was but the exhibition of 
a vanity, which, if not laudable, at least finds its suf- 
ficient excuse in a custom that has prevailed, “ time 
out of mind.” Had not Romulus his Rome ? Did 
not the pugnacious son of Philip call his Egyptian 
military settlement Alexandria.^ And — to descend 
to later times and to cases more directly in point — is 
there not a Fort Gaines in Georgia, and a Fort Jes- 
sup in Florida ? Who then shall carp, when we say 
that Captain Simon Suggs bestowed his name upon 
the spot strengthened by his wisdom, and protected 
by his valour ! 

Great then, we repeat, was the commotion at Fort 
Suggs on the morning in question. The fact had be- 
come generally known — how could it be otherwise 
with thirty women in the immediate vicinity ! — that 
Mrs. Haycock was to be “ court-martialed” on that 
morning ; and the commotion was the consequence. 
The widow herself was suffering great mental dis- 
quietude on this subject, in addition to considerable 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


97 


physical discomfort occasioned by the fall and rough 
handling of the previous night. Under such circum- 
stances, it could hardly be expected that her woes 
would fail to find utterance. And it would have 
been equally unreasonable to suppose that her fellow 
gossips would restrain the natural propensity of the 
sex. Let the reader then, imagine — if he be not ner- 
vous — all the uproar and din which three dozen 
women can make under the most exciting circum- 
stances, and he will have some faint conception of 
the commotion at Fort Suggs on the morning of the 
trial. 

It was at an early hour ; in fact — speaking accord- 
ing to the chronometrical standard in use at Fort 
Suggs — not more than ‘‘ fust-drink time when Cap- 
tain Suggs took Lieutenant Snipes aside to consult 
with him in regard to some of the details of pre- 
paration for the court-martial. 

“ Snipes,” said the Captain, as he seated himself 
a-straddle of the fence, and saw his lieutenant safely 
adjusted in a like position — “ Snipes, as sure’s you’re 
born, thar’s a diffikilty about this here court-martial. 
Now I want you to tell me how we’re to hold a drum- 
head court-martial when we aint got a drumP^ 

Lieutenant Snipes looked very much puzzled, and 
in fact he was exceedingly puzzled, and he consider- 
ed the matter for several moments, but could see no 
way by which the “ diffikilty” might be surmounted. 
At length he remarked, 

‘‘ It does look aukerd, Capting!” 

“ Yes. You see when these here court-martials is 
jumped up all of a sudden, like this, they’re ableegea 


98 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


to be of the drum-head sort — that’s what I’ve allers 
hearn. Well now, supposin’ we was to hold one 
loithout the drum, and heng or shoot that everlastin’ 
old she-devil ; would the law jestify us in doin’ so ^ 
Sometimes I sorter think it would, and then agin it 
looks sorter jubous. What’s your apinion. Lew- 
tenant ?” 

“ That’s it — what you jist said,” replied Lieuten- 
ant Snipes, deferentially. 

“Good!” said the Captain — “lewtenants ought 
allers to think jist as ther captings do. It’s a good 
sign.” 

“ It’s what I’ve allers done, and what I allers ex 
•peels to do,” replied Snipes. 

“Well, well!” remarked Suggs, whose chief ob- 
ject was to impress Snipes with the idea that the 
widow’s life was in actual danger — and through his 
lieutenant, create that impression upon Mrs. Haycock 
herself, and all the rest — “ Well, well, dordt you be- 
lieve that ef I was to git a bar’l, or somethin’ else 
pretty nigh like a drum, and hold the court-martial 
by that — don’t you believe that would justify us ef 
any thing was brought up herearter, supposin’ we was 
to condemn the old woman to deth 

“Belikes it would,” said Snipes. 

“I Jmow it would!” said Suggs emphatically. 

“ J know so too!” remarked the lieutenant, with 
increased confidence. 

“Well, now, all thaf's settled,” said the Captain, 
with an air of satisfaction — “ the next thing is, how 
are we agwine to put her to death.?” 

“Why, we aint tried her yit!” said Snipes,. 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


99 


“To be sure! to be sure! Pd forgot that!— but 
you know thar’s no way to git round condemnin’ of 
her — is thar ?” 

“ No way as I see!” 

“It’s a painful duty, Lewtenant! a very painful 
duty, Lewtenant Snipes; and very distrcssin’. But 
the rules of war is very strict, you know !” 

“ Very strict,” said Snipes. 

“And officers must do ther duty, come what 
may.” 

“ They’re ableeged to,” said the lieutenant. 

“Ah! well!” remarked Captain Suggs with con- 
siderable emotion, “ it’ll be time enough to fix how 
we shall execute the old critter at the trial. You 
think the bar’l will do ?” 

“ Jist as good as any thing,” replied Snipes — “ a 
bar’l and a drum’s sorter alike, any way.” 

“ Well, you’d better go and fix up as well as you 
kin, and the natur’ of the case will admit. Officers 
oughter dress as well as they kin at sich times, ef no 
other. I must go and bresh up, myself.” And with 
that, the consultation between Captain Suggs and 
Lieutenant Snipes, ended ; the former going off to put 
himself a little more in military trim ; while the latter 
industriously employed himself in disseminating the 
result of the conference. 

It was with extreme difficulty that the Captain ar- 
ranged his costume to his own satisfaction, and made 
it befitting so solemn and impressive an occasion. 
After a great deal of trouble however, he did contrive 
to cut a somewhat military figure. With a sword he 
was already “ indifferently well” provided ; having 


100 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


found one — rusty and without a scabbard — some 
where about the premises. This he buckled, oi 
rather tied to his side with buckskin strings. He 
wore at the time, the identical blue jeanes frock-coat 
which has since become so familiar to the people of 
Tallapoosa — it was then new, but on this there were, 
of course, no epaulettes. Long time did Captain 
Suggs employ himself in devising expedients to sup- 
ply the deficiency. At length he hit it. His wife 
had a large crimson pin-cushion, and this he fastened 
upon his left shoulder, having first caused some white 
cotton fringe to be attached to the outward edge. In 
lieu of crimson sash, he fastened around his waist a 
bright-red silk handkerchief, with only a few white 
spots on it. And this was an admirable substitute, 
except that it was almost too short to tie before, and 
exhibited no inconsiderable portion of itself in a de- 
pending triangle behind. The chapeau now alone 
remained to be managed. This was easily done. 
Two sides of the brim of his capacious beaver were 
stitched to the body of the hat, and at the fastening 
on the left side, Mrs. Suggs sewed a cockade of red 
ferreting, nearly as big as the bottom of a saucer. 
Thus imposingly habited — and having first stuffed 
the legs of his pantaloons into the tops of a very an- 
tique pair of boots — Captain Simon Suggs w’ent forth. 

At the upper end of the enclosure, and standing 
near an empty whiskey barrel, was Lieutenant Snipes. 
He had not been so successful as the Captain in the 
matter of his toilette. Around his black wool hat 
was pasted, or stitched, a piece of deep purple gilt 
paper, such as is often found upon bolts of linen. 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


101 


Upon this was represented a battle between a lion and 
a unicorn ; and in a scroll above were certain letters, 
which as Lieutenant Snipes himself remarked, ‘‘ did’nt 
spell nothing” — at least, nothing that he could com- 
prehend. In his hand was the handle of a hoe, 
armed at one extremity wdth a rusty bayonet — the 
only weapon of its kind, at that moment, to be found 
in the whole garrison of Fort Suggs. Equipped thus, 
and provided with a dirty sheet of paper, a portable 
inkstand, (containing poke-berry juice,) and the stump 
of a pen — all of which were upon the head of the bar- 
rel — the doughty Lieutenant awaited the moment 
when it should please Captain Suggs to arraign the 
prisoner and proceed with the trial. 

“ Tallapoosy Vollantares, parade here !” thundered 
Captain Suggs, as he walked up to the barrel. 

Very soon the ‘‘ component parts” of the “ Vollan- 
tares” were grouped about their Captain. 

“Form in a straight line!” squealed Lieutenant 
Snipes. 

The company took the form of a half-moon ! 

Captain Suggs now ordered Mrs. Haycock to be 
brought out ; whereupon Snipes went into the back- 
room of the store, and directly appeared again, lead- 
ing the widow — ’who limped considerably, and 
howled like a full pack of wolves — by the hand. 
The Captain, however, by a judicious threat of in- 
stant decapitation, reduced the noise to a series of 
mere sobbings. 

“ Hadn’t we better fix some way to have some 
music,” said Suggs, “ and march round the house 
once, before we perceed with the trial 
81 


102 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


Lieutenant Snipes suggested that there was no 
drum or fife, as the Captain knew, on the premises 
hut that “ uncle Billy Allen” was an excellent drum- 
mer, and Joe Nalls a first-rate performer on the fife, 
and that perhaps those individuals might, for the 
nonce, be induced to make vocal imitations of their 
respective instruments, and with their hands “ go 
through the motions” indispensable to their proper 
effect. Captain Suggs immediately spoke to those 
gentlemen, and they “ kindly consented” to serve, on 
the very equitable condition of receiving a “ drink” 
each, as soon as the aflfair was over. 

The “ vollantares” were now formed in double 
files, and between the two columns Mrs. Haycock, 
supported by a female friend on each side, was 
placed. 

‘'Music to the front!” shouted Suggs; and the 
order was promptly obeyed. 

“Company! March!” 

“ Dub — dub — dub-a-dub-a-dub,” went “ uncle 
Billy Allen,” inclining dangerously from the perpen- 
dicular, in order to support properly, a non-existent 
drum! 

“ Bhee-ee-phee-fee,” whistled Mr. Nalls, as his 
fingers played rapidly upon the holes of his imaginary 
fife ! ^ 

And the company marched, as it was ordered. 
Suggs, of course, headed the array, walking back- 
wards in order to inspect its movements; while 
Snipes, with his bayonet, walked alongside and kep< 
a sharp eye on the prisoner Thus they marched 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


103 


slowly around the enclosure, and returned to the spot 
whence they started, 

“ Halt ! Form a round ring all round the drum !” 
ordered the Captain, pointing to the barrel. 

The vollantares” arranged themselves so as to 
describe, not exactly a mathematical circle, but a 
figure slightly approximating thereto, with the Cap- 
tain, Lieutenant Snipes, and the widow, in the centre. 

“ Betsy Haycock,” said Captain Suggs, ‘‘you’re 
fotch up here accordin’ to the rigelations of drum- 
head court-martial, for infringin’ on the rules of war, 
by crossin’ of the lines agin orders ; and that too, 
w^hen the fort was onder martial law. Ef you’ve got 
any thing to say agin havin’ your life tuk, less hear 
it.” 

Poor Mrs. Haycock became livid ; her eyes dilated, 
and all her features assumed that sudden sharpness 
which mortal terror often produces. Trembling in all 
her joints, and with pallid lips, she gasped, 

“Mercy! mercy! Captain Suggs! For God’s sake 
don’t kill me — oh don’t ef you please ! I only went 
for my tobakker — for the love of the Lord don'll mur- 
der me! Have mercy — I’ll never — no never — as 
long — ” 

“ It aint me,” said the Captain interrupting her; 
“ it amt me that’s a-gwine to kill you ; it’s the Rules 
mof War, The rules of war is mighty ^strict — aint 
they, Lewtenent Snipes ?” 

“ Powerful strict!” said Snipes. 

“You’ve ’fessed the crime,” continued Suggs, 
“ and ef me and the Lewtenant wanted to let you oft 
ever so bad, the rules of war would lay us liable ef 


104 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


we was to. But come, Lewtenant Snipes,” he 
added, addressing that person ; “the prisoner has 
made her acknowledgements ; take your pen and ink, 
and let’s go and see what’s to be done about it.” 

The Lieutenant took up his writing materials, and 
the couple retired to a corner of the fence, where they 
seated themselves upon the ground. Directly Snipes 
was seen to write ; and then he picked up his pen 
and ink again, and they returned. 

“ What — what — what’s it ?” chokingly inquired 
the widow, as they re-assumed their positions at the 
barrel. 

“ Read out the judgwiew^,” said Suggs with im- 
mense solemnity. 

Snipes read what he had written in the fence-cor- 
ner, as follows : 

“ Whares, Betsy Haycock were brought up afore 
us, bein’ charged with infringin’ the rules of war by 
crossin’ of the lines agin orders, and Fort Suggs bein’ 
under martial law at the time, and likewise ecknow- 
lidged she was gilty, Tharfore we have tried her ec- 
cordin to said rules of war, and condems her to be 
baggonetted to deth in one hour from this time, wit- 
ness our hands and seals.” 

A paleness, more ghastly than that of death, come 
over the widow’s face as she heard the sentence. 
Falling to Ijie earth, she grovelled at the feet of Cap-# 
tain Suggs. 

“ Save me — pity — help ! for God’s sake ! Oh don’t 
kill me Captain Suggs! — beg for me, Mr. Snipes. 
Oh, you won’t — I know you won’t murder me I 
You’re jest in fun — aint you? You couldn’t have 



“ A paleness more ghastly than that of death came over the widow’s face as 
she heard the sentence. Falling to the earth, she grovelled at the feet of 
Captain Suggs .” — Page 104. 



/ 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


107 


the heart to kill a poor woman creetur like me !” — 
and then she added in a hoarse whisper — “ I’ll 
humble myself to you, Captain Suggs ! I’ll git down 
on my very knees, and kiss your shoe ! Don’t take 
my life away with that — ” she didn’t finish the sen- 
tence, but shuddered all over, as she thought of 
Snipes’ rusty bayonet. 

“ Oh ! Jimminny Crimminny ! what a cussed old 
fool !” exclaimed a voice from the fence-corner, out- 
side, which was instantly recognized as belonging to 
Yellow-legs — “ he darsent no more kill you, ’an he 
dar to fight an Injun !” 

The widow looked up, but took no comfort from 
the words. Captain Suggs, highly indignant, seized 
a large stone and projected it with Titan-like force, 
at the dirt-eater ; but it struck the fence. Yellow- 
legs, not at all alarmed, turned his back to Suggs, 
and made a gesture expressive of the highest degree 
of contempt, and then bounded off. 

“ Lewtenant, prepar’ for execution !” said the Cap- 
tain, as he returned to tb*? barrel. 

Mrs. Haycock renewea her lamentations and en- 
treaties. 

I wish,” said Suggs, in a fit of mental abstrac- 
tion, but soliloquizing aloud; thar was some way to 
save her. But ef I was to let her off with a fine^ I 
might be layin’ myself liable to be tried for my own 
life.” 

Oh yes! Captain Suggs, I’ll pay any fine you’ll 
put on me — I’ll give up all the money I’ve got, ef 
you’ll jesL let me off— do now, dear Captain — ” 

‘‘ Hey ^ What ? Have 1 been talkin’ out loud ?” 


108 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


inquired Suggs, starting with a disconcerted look 
from his reverie. 

“Yes, yes answered the widow with great ear- 
nestness ; “ you said ef Pd pay a fine, you’d spar my 
life — didn’t you now, dear, good Captain Suggs ?” 

“ Ef I did, I oughent to ’a done it. I don’t think 
I’d be jestified ef I was to let you off. The rules of 
war would hold me ’countable ef I did — don’t you 
think they would, Lewtenant ?” 

Mighty apt!” said Snipes, as he sharpened the 
end of his rusty bayonet on a fragment of rock, by 
way of preparing for the execution of the widow. 

Mrs. Haycock adjured Captain Suggs by his affec- 
tion for his own ofl[spring, to impose a fine, instead 
of “ makin’ her poor fatherless children, orfins !” 
Tears came into Suggs’ eyes at this appeal, and the 
sternness of the officer was lost in the sensibility of 
the man. 

“ Don’t you think, Lewtenant,” he asked, “ bein’ 
as it’s a woman — a widder woman too — the rules of 
w^ar wouldn’t be as severe on us for lettin’ of her off, 
purvidin^ she paid a reasonable fine 

“ They wouldn’t be severe at all I” replied Snipes. 

“Well, well, widder’ Bein’ as it’s you — a per- 
ticlar friend and close neighbor — and bein’ as you’re 
a widder, and on the ’count of my feelins for Billy 
Haycock, which was your husband afore he died, I 
s’pose I’ll have to run the resk. But it’s a orful 
’sponsibility I’m a takin, jist for friendship, wid- 
der—” 

Mrs. Haycock inteirupted him with a torrent of 
thanks and benedictions. 


C'APTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


109 


Thar aint many^'^ continued Suggs, “ Fd take 
sich a ’sponsibility for ; I may“be a-runnin of my own 
neck into a halter !” 

“ The Lord in Heaven purvent your ever sufferin’ 
bekase you’ve tuk pity on a poor widder like me !” 
was the grateful woman’s ejaculation. 

“ Hows’ever,” added Suggs, “ to shorten the mat- 
ter, jist pay down twenty-five dollars, and I’ll pardon 
you ef I do git into a scrape about it — I never could 
bar to see a woman suffer ! it strikes me right here /” 
and the Captain placed his hand upon his breast in a 
most impressive manner. 

The joyful Mrs. Haycock immediately untied a key 
from her girdle, and handing it to one of her friends, 
sent her into the store, with directions “ to sarch 
low down, in the left hand corner before of her 
chist,” and bring a certain stocking she would find 
there filled with coin. This was speedily done, and 
the amount of the fine handed to Captain Suggs. 

“ This here money ,^’ he remarked as he received 
it, ‘‘ I want you all to onderstand, aint my money. 
No! no! I have to keep it here” — sliding it into his 
pockets — “ ontwell I git my orders about it. It’s the 
governmenVs money, and I darsent spend a cent of it 
— do I, Lewtenant 

‘‘ No more’n you dar to put your head in a blazin’ 
log-pile !” answered the Lieutenant. 

A whistling — just such as always implies that 
somebody, in the immediate neighbourhood of the 
whistler, lies tremendously — was heard at this mo- 
ment, and Suggs looking round, saw Yellow-legs in 
bis old corner, dealing a supposititious hand of cards 


110 CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 

to an imaginary antagonist — as if he would thereby 
intimate that Captain Simon Suggs would embezzle 
the public money, or at any rate, hazard its loss at cards. 

“ Charge baggonets on that cussed, pumkin- 
faced whelp of the devil !” roared the Captain in the 
phrensy of the moment; and Lieutenant Snipes 
dashed at Yellow-legs with his rusty weapon, which 
he plunged through a crack of the fence ! Before 
the gallant Snipes, however, could recover from the 
impetus of his attack and withdraw the bayonet, the 
dirt-eater had pulled it ofi’ the hoe-handle, and fixing 
it on a dry corn-stalk, bore it aloft upon his shoulder 
most contumaciously, under the very nose of Captain 
Suggs! 

****** 

The reader will please suppose fifteen minutes to 
have elapsed, and Captain Suggs and his Lieutenant 
to be behind the store chimney, in private conversation. 

“ Lewtenant Snipes!” said Suggs, “I look upon 
you as a high-minded, honubble officer, and a honor 
to the Tallapoosy Vollantares. I like to see a man 
do his duty like you done yourn ! Here, take that 
— handing him one of Mrs. Haycock’s dollars — 
“ Simon Suggs never forgits his friends — never ! 
His motter is allers, Fust his country^ and then his 
friends P"* 

“ Capting Suggs” — was the Lieutenant’s reply, 
as he made a minute examination of the Mexican 
coin in his hand — “I’ve said it behind you back, 
and I’ll say it to yoiPre face; you’re a gentleman 
from the top of your head to the end of your big-toe 
nail I Less go in and liquor ; damn expenses !” 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


Ill 


CHAPTER THE NINTH. 

THE TALLAPOOSY VOLLANTARES” MEET THE ENEMY. 

Captain Suggs, with the troops under his com- 
mand, remained, we believe, during the entire con- 
tinuance of the war,” in garrison at the Fort. The 
reason for this was obvious. The object of our hero 
w^as to protect that portion of the country which had 
the strongest claims upon his affection — his own 
neighbourhood. It was beyond human knowledge 
to foretell how soon the wily savage might raise the 
tomahawk and scalping knife in the immediate vicinity 
of Fort Suggs. Why then should any body ever have 
expected, or desired the Captain to leave that im- 
portant post and the circumjacent country in a state 
of absolute defencelessness ? Suggs was too prudent 
for that ; he remained snug enough at the Fort, sub- 
sisting comfortably upon the contributions which he 
almost daily levied from wagons passing with flour, 
bacon, and whiskey, from Wetumpka eastward. In 
his own energetic language, “ he had tuk his persi- 
tion, and d — d ef he didn’t keep it as long as he h'\d 
yeath enough to stand upon !” 

In spite of the excitement of frequent sorties upon 
ox- wagons ; of dollar-pitching, and an endless series 
of games of old sledge as well as the occasional 
exhibition of a chuck-a-luck table, at which the Cap- 
tain himself presided ; time at last began to hang 
heavily upon the hands of the inmates of Fort Suggs. 


112 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


At length, however, an event occurred which dis- 
pelled the ennui of the “ Vollantares,’’ for a season 
at least. An Indian hall-play was announced to 
‘‘come off” within a few days, at the ball-ground 
near the river, and only three miles from the fort, 
though on the opposite side of the Tallapoosa. It 
was decided that Captain Suggs and his company 
should attend and witness the sport ; and as both the 
towns engaged in the game were reputed to be 
“ friendly,” not the slightest danger was anticipated. 
Had there been, from our knowledge of the prudence 
of Captain Suggs, we do not hesitate to say, that he 
would never have jeoparded his own invaluable life, 
not to speak of those of his comparatively insignifi- 
cant soldiers, by appearing on the ball-ground. Tire- 
some as was the monotony of Fort Suggs, he would 
have remained there indefinitely, ere he had done 
his country such wrong ! 

Early on the day appointed for the trial of skill be- 
tween the copper-coloured sportsmen of the towns of 
Upper and Lower Oakfuskee, the “ Vollantares” and 
their illustrious Captain had crossed the river at the 
ferry which lay between the fort and the ball-ground, 
and soon they had reached the long, straight pine 
ridge upon which the game was to be played. Al- 
ready two or three hundred Indians had assem- 
bled, and the Captain also found there some ten or a 
dozen white men. A stake was set up close to the 
goal which was nearest the river, and from its top 
hung a huge shot-bag of crimson cloth, covered with 
beautiful bead- work, and filled with the silver money 
which was bet on the result of the game. At the 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


113 


foot of the stake, on the ground, were olankets, 
shawls, guns, bolts of cotton goods, and all sorts of 
trumpery ; all of which was also bet on the result. 
The “ odds” were in favour of the Lower Oakfus- 
kees, among whom were some of *the best players in 
the ‘‘nation,” and Captain Suggs quickly backed 
them to the amount of ten dollars, and the money was 
added to that already in the shot-pouch. 

The Indian game of ball is a very exciting one, 
and the Creeks gamble furiously at it. To play it, a 
level piece of ground, some two or three hundred 
yards long, is selected, and the centre ascertained. 
Goals are designated at each end, and the ball — very 
like that used in games among the whites, but not so 
elastic — is thrown up at the centre. One side endea- 
vours to get it to one “ base,” while their antagonists 
strive to carry it to the other. The players are armed 
with two short sticks, each of which is bent and tied 
at one end, so as to form a sort of spoon ; and when 
these ends are placed together they make an oval cup 
in which the ball is caught, and then hurled to a sur- 
prising distance. Every time the ball is carried to a 
goal, it counts one for the side who take it there. No 
idea of the furious excitement into which the players 
are worked, can be conceived by one who has never 
witnessed a scene of the kind. They run over and 
trample upon each other ; knock down their antagonists 
with their ball-sticks ; trip them as they are running 
at full speed ; and, in short, employ all kinds of force 
and foui playing to win the game. Generally there 
are two or three hundred — often five — engaged in 
the sport at once; all naked except the “flap,” and 


114 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


m most instances the affair ends in a terrible meUe^ 
in which the squaws on each side supply their male 
friends with missiles, such as rocks and light- wood 
knots. The betting is often high ; the main bet be- 
ing, not uncommonly, five hundred dollars. 

On the present occasion the game was “ twenty-one 
up.” The playing commenced, and the woods re- 
sounded with the fierce yells of the naked savages. 
The first run was gained by the upper town, but the 
next, and the next, and the next, were won with ease 
by the lower. The Captain was exultant, and 
whooped loudly at every winning. 

At length, when it was seen that the upper town 
must lose, one of the white men whom Captain Suggs 
found on the ground when he arrived — -and who was 
the heaviest better against the lower town — ap- 
proached our hero, and informed him that he had dis- 
covered the astounding fact, that both parties of In- 
dians were determined to make a sudden attack upon 
all the white men present, and kill them to a man. 
He stated farther, that he had overheard a conversa- 
tion between Cocher-Emartee, the chief of the upper 
town, and Nocose Harjo, the principal man of the 
lower, in which it was agreed between them, that the 
signal for attack should be the throwing of the ball 
straight up into the air. In view of these facts, he 
advised the Captain to leave at once, whenever he 
should see the signal given. 

Captain Suggs is human, and “ as sich?'* is liable 
to err, but it isn’t often that he can be “throwed” by- 
ordinary men. He “ saw through the trap” that was 
set for him in a minute. He did not doubt that an 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


115 


attack would be made, he knew that a feigned one 
would be made by Cocher-Emartee’s Indians, and he 
was well convinced that its only object would be to 
frighten the Vollantares” from the ground, and give 
the upper town an opportunity, with the assistance 
of their white confederates, to beat the lower town 
Indians and seize the stakes. He determined there- 
fore to “ watch out,” and keep himself “whole” in 
a pecuniary point of view if possible. Calling his 
trusty lieutenant to his side, he discovered to him the 
machinations against them, and directing him to keep 
the company — most of whom were a-foot — in the 
neighbourhood of a number of ponies that were 
hitched near the upper end of the ball-ground ; he 
himself walked to the lower end, and bringing his 
pony close to the post from which the shot-pouch was 
suspended, he hitched him and sat down. 

Suddenly, when most of the Indians were collected . 
near the centre of the ground, the ball was seen to 
ascend high into the air. Simon was watching for 
it, and before it had risen twenty feet, had loosed his 
pony, flung the reins over his neck, cracked him 
smartly across the rump, and so started him home by 
himself. The next moment he was mounted on a 
fine blood bay, belonging to Cocher-Emartee, which 
wheeling under the post, he took off the shot-bag 
containing the stakes with the muzzle of his rifle, and 
in less time than we have taken to describe his move- 
ments, was thundering at full speed through the 
woods towards the ferry, the silver in the pouch 
giving a responsive jingle to every bound of the gal- 
lant t ay. 


116 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


At the same moment that Captain Suggs mounted 
and dashed off, most of the “ Vollantares,” under the 
lead of Snipes, jumped upon the ponies of the upper 
Oakfuskees and made for the river. A volley of 
rifle shots was discharged over their heads, and with 
furious yells the Indians pursued. Only a few, how 
ever, could muster ponies ; and such was the prompt- 
ness with which the Captain’s orders were executed, 
that the ‘‘ Vollantares” arrived at the ferry full five 
minutes in advance of their pursuers. Here a diffi- 
culty presented itself. The flat would not carry 
across more than a fourth of the company at once. 
Time was precious — the enemy was rushing onward, 
now fully determined to recover their ponies or die 
in the attempt. Suggs, equal to any emergency, cut 
loose the flat and started it down the river. Then 
holding his gun aloft, he dashed his spurs into his 
horse’s flanks and plunged into the stream, and his 
men followed. As they ascended the opposite bank, 
Cocher-Emartee, foaming and furious, rode up on the 
side they had just left. He was mounted on a bor- 
rowed horse, and now loudly howled forth his demand 
for the restoration of his gallant bay and the shot-bag 
of silver ; protesting that the whole affair was a joke 
on his part to try the spunk of the “ Vollantares” — 
that he was ‘‘ good friends” to the white people, and 
didn’t wish to injure any of them. 

“Gotoh-11! you d — d old bandy-shanked red- 
skin!” shouted back Simon ; “ I know the inemies of 
my country better’n that 1” 

Cocher danced, shouted, raved, bellowed, and 
snorted in his boundless rage I Finally, he urged his 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


117 


pony into the water with the intention of swimming 
across. 

“ Kumpny form !” shouted Simon — ‘‘ blaze away 
at the d — d old hostile A volley w’as fired, and 
when the smoke cleared away, the pony was seen 
struggling in the river, but there were no Indians in 
sight. 

Captain Suggs never recovered the pony which 
he turned loose in the woods ; and notwithstanding 
this loss was incurred while in the discharge of his 
duties as one of the defenders of his country, the 
state legislature has thrice refused to grant him any 
remuneration whatsoever. Truly “ republics are un- 
grateful !” 


118 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


CHAPTER THE TENTH. 

THE CAPTAIN ATTENDS A CAMP-MEETING. 

Captain Suggs found himself as poor at the con- 
clusion of the Creek war, as he had been at its com- 
mencement. Although no “ arbitrary,” ‘‘ despotic,” 
“corrupt,” and “ unprincipled” judge had fined him 
a thousand dollars for his proclamation of martial law 
at Fort Suggs, or the enforcement of its rules in the 
case of Mrs. Haycock ; yet somehow — the thing is 
alike inexplicable to him and to us — the money 
which he had contrived, by various shifts to obtain, 
melted away and was gone for ever. To a man like 
the Captain, of intense domestic affections, this state 
of destitution was most distressing. “ He could stand 
it himself — didn’t care a d — n for it, no way,” he 
observed, “but the old woman and the children; 
that bothered him !” 

As he sat one day, ruminating upon flie unpleasant 
condition of his “ financial concerns,” Mrs. Suggs 
informed him that “ the sugar and coffee was nigh 
about out,” and that there were not “ a dozen j’ints 
and middlins, all put together^ in the smoke-house.” 
Suggs bounced up on the instant, exclaiming, “ D — n 
it ! somebody must suffer!” But whether this remark 
was intended to convey the idea that he and his fa- 
mily were about to experience the want of the neces- 
saries of life ; or that some other, and as yet unknown 
individual should “ suffer” to prevent that prospec- 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. " 119 

tive exigency, must be left to the commentators, if 
perchance any of that ingenious class of persons 
should hereafter see proper to write notes for this his- 
tory. It is enough for us that we give all the facts 
in this connection, so that ignorance of the subsequent 
conduct of Captain Suggs may not lead to an errone- 
ous judgment in respect to his words. 

Having uttered the exclamation vre have repeated 
— and perhaps, hurriedly walked once or twice across 
the room — Captain Suggs drew on his famous old 
green-blanket overcoat, and ordered his horse, and 
within five minutes was on his way to a camp-meet- 
ing, then in full blast on Sandy creek, twenty miles 
distant, where he hoped to find amusement, at least. 
When he arrived there, he found the hollow square 
of the encampment filled with people, listening to the 
mid-day sermon and its dozen accompanying “ ex- 
hortations.” A half-dozen preachers w^ere dispensing 
the word ; the one in the pulpit, a meek-faced old 
man, of great simplicity and benevolence. His voice 
was weak and cracked, notwithstanding which, how- 
ever, he contrived to make himself heard occasion- 
ally, above the din of the exhorting, the singing, and 
the shouting w’hich were going on around him. The 
rest were walking to and fro, (engaged in the other 
exercises we have indicated,) among the “ mourn- 
ers” — a host of whom occupied the seat set apart for 
their especial use — or made personal appeals to the 
mere spectators. The excitement was intense. Men 
and women rolled about on the ground, or lay sob- 
bing or shouting in promiscuous heaps. More than 
all, the negroes sang and screamed and prayed. Se- 
32 


120 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


veral, under the influence oY what is technically called 
“ the jerks,” were plunging and pitching about with 
convulsive energy. The great object of all seemed 
to be, to see who could make the greatest noise — 

‘^And each — for madness ruled the hour — 

Would try his own expressive power.” 

“ Bless my poor old soul !” screamed the preacher 
in the pulpit ; “ ef yonder aint a squad in that corner 
that we aint got one outen yet! It’U never do” — 
raising his voice — “you must come outen that! 
Brother Fant, fetch up that youngster in the blue 
coat! I see the Lord’s a-workin’ upon him! Fetch 
him along — glory — yes ! — hold to him !” 

“Keep the thing warm!” roared a sensual seem- 
ing man, of stout mould and florid countenance, who 
was exhorting among a bevy of young women, upon 
whom he was lavishing caresses. “ Keep the thing 
warm, breethring ! — come to the Lord, honey !” he 
added, as he vigorously hugged one of the damsels 
he sought to save. 

“Oh, Pve got him!” said another in exulting 
tones, as he led up a gaw^ky youth among the mourn- 
ers — “Pve got him — he tried to git off, but — ha! 
Lord!” — shaking his head as much as to say, it took 
a smart fellow to escape him — “ha! Lord!” — and 
he wiped the perspiration from his face with one 
hand, and with the other, patted his neophyte on the 
shoulder — “he couldn’t do it! No! Then he tried 
to argy wi’ me — but bless the Lord ’ — he couldn’t do 
that nother! Ha! Lord! I tuk him, fust in the Old 
Testament — bless the Lord ! — and I argyed him all 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


121 


thro’ Kings — then I throwed him into Proverbs. — 
and from that, here we had it up and down, kleer 
down to the New Testament, and then I begun to see 
it work him ! — then we got into Matthy, and from 
Matthy right straight along to Acts; and thar I 
throwed him! Y-e-s L-o-r-d!” — assuming the 
nasal twang and high pitch which are, in some parts, 
considered the perfection of rhetorical art — “ Y-e-s 
L-o-r-d! and h-e-r-e he is! Now g-i-t down 
thar,” addressing the subject, “ and s-e-e' ef the 
L-o-r-d won’t do somethin’ f-o-ryou!” Having 
thus deposited his charge among the mourners, he 
started out, summarily to convert another soul ! 

“ Gl-o-ree.'” yelled a huge, greasy negro woman, 
as in a fit of the jerks, she threw herself convulsively 
from her feet, and fell “ like a thousand of brick,” 
across a diminutive old man in a little round hat, 
who was squeaking consolation to one of the 
mourners. 

‘‘Good Lord, have mercy!” ejaculated the little 
man earnestly and unaffectedly, as he strove to crawl 
from under the sable mass which was crushing him. 

In another part of the square a dozen old women 
were singing. They were in a state of absolute ex- 
tasy, as their shrill pipes gave forth, 

“ I rode on the sky, 

Quite ondestified I, 

And the moon it was under my feet 

Near these last, stood a delicate woman in that 
hysterical condition in which the nerves are incon- 
trollable, and which is vulgarly — and almost bias- 


122 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


phemously — termed the “ holy laugh.” A hideous 
grin distorted her mouth, and was accompanied with 
a maniac’s chuckle ; while every muscle and nerve 
of her face twitched and jerked in horrible spasms.* 

Amid all this confusion and excitement Suggs 
stood unmoved. He viewed the whole affair as a 
grand deception — a sort of “ opposition line” running 
against his own, and looked on with a sort of profes- 
sional jealousy. Sometimes he would mutter running 
comments upon what passed before him. 

“ Well now,” said he, as he observed the full- 
faced brother who was ‘‘ officiating” among the wo- 
men, “that ere feller takes my eye! — thar he’s een 
this half-hour, a-figurin amongst them galls, and’s 
never said the fust word to nobody else. Wonder 
what’s the reason these here preachers never hugs up 
the old, ugly women ? Never seed one do it in my 
life — the sperrit never moves ’em that way! It’s 
nater tho’ ; and the women, they never flocks round 
one o’ the old dried-up breethring — bet two to one 
old splinter-legs thar,” — nodding at one of the minis* 
ters — “ won’t git a chance to say turkey to a good- 


* The reader is requested to bear in mind, that the scenes de- 
scribed in this chapter are not now to be witnessed. Eight or 
ten years ago, all classes of population of the Creek country 
were very different from what they now are. Of course, no dis- 
respect is intended to any denomination of Christians. We be- 
lieve that camp-meetings are not peculiar to any church, though 
most usual in the Methodist — a denomination whose respecta- 
bility in Alabama is attested by the fact, that ve7-y many of its 
worthy clergymen and lay members, hold honourable and pro- 
fitable offices in the gift of the state legislature ; of which, in- 
deed, almost a controlling portion are themselves Methodists. 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


123 


lookin gall to-day! Well! who blames ’em? Nater 
will be nater, all the world over; and I judge ef I 
was a preacher, I should save the purtiest souls fust, 
myself!” 

While the Captain was in the middle of this con ■ 
versation with himself, he caught the attention of the 
preacher in the pulpit, who inferring from an indes- 
cribable something about his appearance that he was 
a person of some consequence, immediately deter- 
mined to add him at once to the church if it could be 
done ; and to that end began a vigorous, direct per- 
sonal attack, 

“ Breethring,” he exclaimed, ‘‘I see yonder a 
man that’s a sinner ; I know he’s a sinner ! Thar he 
stands,” pointing at Simon, “ a missubble old crittur, 
with his head a-blossomin for the grave! A few 
more short years, and d-o-w-n he’ll go to perdition, 
lessen the Lord have mer-cy on him! Come up 
here, you old hoary-headed sinner, a-n-d git down 
upon your knees, a-n-d put up your cry for the Lord 
to snatch you from the bottomless pit ! You’re ripe 
for the devil — you’re b-o-u-n-d for hell, and the 
Lord only knows what’ll become on you !” 

‘‘ D — n it,” thought Suggs, “ ^ I only had you 
down in the krick swamp for a minit or so, Td show 
you who’s old ! Pd alter your tune mighty sudden, 
you sassy, ’saitful old rascal!” But he judiciously 
held his tongue and gave no utterance to the thought. 

The attention of many having been directed to the 
Captain by the preacher’s remarks, he was soon sur- 
rounded by numerous well-meaning, and doubtless 
very pious persons, each one of whom seemed bent 


124 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


on the application of his own particular recipe for the 
salvation of souls. For a long time the Captain stood 
silent, or answered the incessant stream of exhorta- 
tion only with a sneer ; but at length, his countenance 
began to give token of inward emotion. First his 
eye-lids twitched — then his upper lip quivered — next 
a transparent drop formed on one of his eye-lashes, 
and a similar one on the tip of his nose — and, at last, 
a sudden bursting of air from nose and mouth, told 
that Captain Suggs was overpow’ered by his emotions. 
At the moment of the explosion, he made a feint as 
if to rush from the crowd, but he was in experienced 
hands, who well knew that the battle was more than 
half won. 

“ Hold to him !” said one — “ it’s a-workin in him 
as strong as a Dick horse !” 

“ Pour it into him,” said another, ‘‘ it’ll all come 
right directly !” 

“ That’s the way I love to see ’em do,” observed 
a third ; when you begin to draw the water from their 
eyes, taint gwine to be long afore you’ll have ’em on 
their knees!” 

And so they clung to the Captain manfully, and 
half dragged, half led him to the mourner’s bench ; 
by which he threw himself down, altogether unman- 
ned, and bathed in tears. Great was the rejoicing 
of the brethren, as they sang, shouted, and prayed 
around him — for by this time it had come to be gene- 
rally known that the “ convicted” old man was Cap- 
tain Simon Suggs, the very chief of sinners” in all 
that region. 

The Captain remained grovelling in the dust dur 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


125 


ing the usual time, and gave vent to even more than 
the requisite number of sobs, and groans, and heart- 
piercing cries. At length, when the proper time had 
arrived, he bounced up, and with a face radiant with 
joy, commenced a series of vaultings and tumblings, 
which “ laid in the shade” all previous performances 
of the sort at that camp-meeting. The brethren were 
in extasies at this demonstrative evidence of com- 
pletion of the work ; and whenever Suggs shouted 
‘‘ Gloree !” at the top of his lungs, every one of them 
shouted it back, until the woods rang with echoes. 

The effervescence having partially subsided, Suggs 
was put upon his pins to relate his experience, which 
he did somewhat in this style — first brushing the 
tear-drops from his eyes, and giving the end of his 
nose a preparatory wring with his fingers, to free it 
of the superabundant moisture : 

“ Friends,” he said, “ it don’t take long to curry 
a short horse, accordin’ to the old sayin’, and I’ll give 
you the perticklers of the way I was ‘ brought to a 
knowledge’ ” — here the Captain wiped his eyes, 
brushed the tip of his nose and snuffled a little — “ in 
less’n no time.” 

Praise the Lord !’^ ejaculated a bystander. 

You see I come here full o’ romancin’ and devil- 
ment, and jist to make game of all the purceedins. 
Well, sure enough, I done so for some time, and was 
a-thinkin how I should play some trick — ” 

‘‘ Dear soul alive ! donH he talk sweet !” cried an 
old lady in black silk — “ Whar’s John Dobbs ? You 
Sukey!” screaming at a negro woman on the other 
side of die square — ef you don’t hunt up your mass 


126 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


John in a minute, and have him here to listen to his 
"sperience, I’ll tuck you up when I git home and give 
you a hundred and fifty lashes, madam ! — see ef I 
don’t ! Blessed Lord !” — referring again to the Cap 
tain’s relation — “ aint it a precious ’scource !” 

“I was jist a-thinkin’ how I should play some 
trick to turn it all into redecule, when they began to 
come round me and talk. Long at fust I didn’t 
mind it, but arter a little that brother” — pointing to 
the reverend gentlemen who had so successfully car- 
ried the unbeliever through the Old and New Testa- 
ments, and who Simon was convinced was the “ big 
dog of the tanyard” — “ that brother spoke a word 
that struck me kleen to the heart, and run all over 
me, like fire in dry grass — ” 

“ I-I-I can bring ’em !” cried the preacher alluded 
to, in a tone of exultation — “ Lord thou knows ef thy 
servant can’t stir ’em up, nobody else needn’t try — 
but the glory aint mine ! I’m a poor worrum of the 
dust” he added, with ill-managed affectation. 

“ And so froni that I felt somethin’ a-pullin’ me 
inside — ” 

“Grace! grace! nothin’ but grace!” exclaimed 
one ; meaning that “ grace” had been operating in 
the Captain’s gastric region. 

“ And then,” continued Suggs, “ I wanted to git 
off, but they hilt me, and bimeby I felt so missuble, 
I had to go yonder” — pointing to the mourners’ seat 
— “ and when I lay down thar it got wuss and wuss, 
and ’peared like somethin’ was a-mashin’ down on 
my back — ” 

“ That was his load o’ sin,” said one of Ae bre- 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


127 


thren — never mind, it’ll tumble off presently , see 
ef it don’t !” and he shook his head professionally and 
knowingly. 

‘‘ And it kept a-gittin heavier and heavier, ontwell 
it looked like it might be a four year old steer, or a 
big pine log, or somethin’ of that sort — ” 

“ Glory to my soul,” shouted Mrs. Dobbs, “ it’s 
the sweetest talk I ever hearn! You Sukey! aint 
you got John yit ? never mind, my lady, J’ll settle 
wi’ you !” Sukey quailed before the finger which 
her mistress shook at her. 

‘‘And arter awhile,” Suggs went on, “ ’peared 
like I fell into a trance, like, and I seed — ” 

“ Now we’ll git the good on it !” cried one of the 
sanctified.” 

“ And I seed the biggest, longest, rip-roarenest, 
blackest, scaliest — “ Captain Suggs paused, wiped 
his brow, and ejaculated “Ah, L-o-r-d!” so as to 
give full time for curiosity to become impatience to 
know what he saw. 

“ Sarpent ! warn’t it ?” asked one of the preachers. 

“ No, not a sarpent,” replied Suggs, blowing his 
nose. 

“ Do tell us what it war, soul alive ! — whar is 
John ?” said Mrs. Dobbs. 

“ Allegator!” said the Captain. 

“Alligator!” repeated every woman present, and 
screamed for very life. 

Mrs. Dobb’s nerves were so shaken by the an- 
nouncement, that after repeating the horrible word, 
she screamed to Sukey, “you Sukey, I say, you 
Su-u-ke-e-y ! ef you let John come a-nigh this way, 


128 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


whar the dreadful alliga — shaw ! what am I thinkin' 
’bout ? ’Twarn’t nothin’ but a vishin !” 

“ Well,” said the Captain in continuation, “ the 
allegator kept a-comin’ and a-comin’ to’ards me, with 
his great long jaws a-gapin’ open like a ten-foot pair 
o’ tailors’ shears — ” 

“Oh! oh! oh! Lord! gracious above!” cried the 
women. 

“ Satan !” was the laconic ejaculation of the old- 
est preacher present, who thus informed the congre- 
gation that it was the devil which had attacked Suggs 
in the shape of an alligator. 

“ And then I concluded the jig was up, ’thout I 
could block his game some way ; for I seed his idee 
was to snap off my head — ” 

The women screamed again. 

“So I fixed myself jist like I was purfectly willin’ 
for him to take my head, and rather he’d do it as 
not” — here the women shuddered perceptibly — “ and 
so I hilt my head straight out” — the Captain illus- 
trated by elongating his neck — “ and when he come 
up and was a gwine to shet down on it, I jist pitched 
in a big rock which choked him to death, and that 
minit I felt the weight slide off, and I had the best 
feelins — sorter like you’ll have from good sperrits — 
any body ever had !” 

“Didn’t I tell you so? Didn’t I tell you so?” 
asked the brother who had predicted the off-tumbling 
of the load of sin. “ Ha, Lord! fool who! I’ve been 
all along thar! — yes, all along thar! and I know 
every inch of the way jist as good as I do the road 
home !” — and then he turned round and rdund, and 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


129 


looked at all, to receive a silent tribute to his supe- 
rior penetration. 

Captain Suggs was now the ‘‘ lion of the day.” 
Nobody could pray so well, or exhort so movingly, 
as “ brother Suggs.” Nor did his natural modesty 
prevent the proper performance of appropriate exer- 
cises. With the reverend Bela Bugg (him to whom, 
under providence, he ascribed his conversion,) he 
was a most especial favourite. They walked, sang, 
and prayed together for hours. 

“ Come, come up ; thar’s room for all!” cried bro- 
ther Bugg, in his evening exhortation. “ Come to 
the ‘ seat,’ and ef you won’t pray yourselves, let me 
pray for you I” 

“Yes!” said Simon, by way of assisting his 
friend ; “ it’s a game that all can win at ! Ante up t 
ante up, boys — friends I mean — don’t back out !” 

“ Thar aint a sinner here,” said Bugg, “ no matter 
ef his soul’s black as a nigger, but what thar’s room 
for him!” 

“ No matter what sort of a hand you’ve got,” 
added Simon in the fulness of his benevolence ; 
“ take stock ! Here am /, the wickedest and blind- 
est of sinners — has spent my whole life in the sarvice 
of the devil — has now come in on narry pair and 
won a pileP’^ and the Captain’s face beamed with 
holy pleasure. 

“ D-o-n-’t be afeard !” cried the preacher ; “ come 
along! the meanest won’t be turned away! humble 
yourselves and come!” 

“ No!” said Simon, still indulging in his favourite 
style of metaphor; “the bluff game aint played here! 


130 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


No runnin’ of a body off! Every body holds four 
aces, and when you bet, you win !” 

And thus the Captain continued, until the services 
were concluded, to assist in adding to the number at 
the mourners’ seat ; and up to the hour of retiring, he 
exhibited such enthusiasm in the cause, that he was 
unanimously voted to be the most efficient addition 
the church had made during that meeting. 

The next morning, when the preacher of the day 
first entered the pulpit, he announced that “ brother 
Simon Suggs,” mourning over his past iniquities, and 
desirous of going to work in the cause as speedily 
as possible, would take up a collection to found 
a church in his own neighbourhood, at which he 
hoped to make himself useful as soon as he could 
prepare himself for the ministry, which the preacher 
didn’t doubt, would be in a very few weeks, as bro- 
ther Suggs was “ a man of mighty good judgement, 
and of a great discorse.’^ The funds were to be col- 
lected by ‘‘ brother Suggs,” and held in trust by bro- 
ther Bela Bugg, who was the financial officer of the 
circuit, until some arrangement could be made to 
build a suitable house. 

Yes, breethring,” said the Captain, rising to his 
feet; “ I want to start a little ’sociation close to me, 
and I want you all to help. I’m mighty poor myself, 
as poor as any of you — don’t leave breethring” — ^ob- 
serving that several of the well-to-do were about to 
go off— “ don’t leave ; ef you aint able to afford any 
thing, jist give us your blessin’ and it’ll be all the 
same •” 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 131 

This insinuation did the business, and the sensitive 
individuals re-seated themselves. 

“ It’s mighty little of this world’s goods I’ve got,” 
resumed Suggs, pulling off his hat and holding it be- 
fore him ; “ but I’ll bury that in the cause any how,” 
and he deposited his last five-dollar bill in the hat. 

There was a murmur of approbation at the Cap- 
tain’s liberality throughout the assembly. 

Suggs now commenced collecting, and very pru- 
dently attacked first the gentlemen who had shown a 
disposition to escape. These, to exculpate them- 
selves from any thing like poverty, contributed hand- 
somely. 

“ Look here, breethring,” said the Captain, dis- 
playing the bank-notes thus received, “ brothei 
Snooks has drapt a five wi’ me, and brother Snod- 
grass a ten ! In course ’taint expected that you that 
aint as well off as them^ will give as much; let every 
one give accordin'^ to ther means.” 

This was another chain- shot that raked as it went! 
“ Who so low” as not to be able to contribute as 
much as Snooks and Snodgrass } 

“ Here’s all the small money I’ve got about me,” 
said a burly old fellow, ostentatiously handing to 
Suggs, over the heads of a half dozen, a ten dollar 
bill. 

‘‘ That’s what I call maganimus I” exclaimed 
the Captain ; “ that’s the way every rich man ought 
to do!” 

These examples were followed, more or less 
closely, by almost all present, for Simon had excited 
the pride of purse of the congregation, and a 


132 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


very handsome sum was collected in a very short 
time. 

The reverend Mr. Bugg, as soon as he observed 
that our hero had obtained all that was to be had at 
that time, went to him and inquired what amount had 
been collected. The Captain replied that it was still 
uncounted, but that it couldn’t be much under a 
hundred. 

“ Well, brother Suggs, you’d better count it and 
turn k over to me now. I’m goin’ to leave pre- 
sently.” 

“No!” said Suggs — “can’t do it!” 

“ Why? — what’s the matter?” inquired Bugg. 

“It’s got to be prayed over^ fust!” said Simon, a 
heavenly smile illuminating his whole face. 

“ Well,” replied Bugg, “ less go one side and do 
it!” 

“No!” said Simon, solemnly. 

Mr. Bugg gave a look of inquiry. 

“You see that krick swamp?” asked Suggs — 
“ I’m gwine down in thar, and I’d gwine to lay this 
money down 5o” — showing how he would place it 
on the ground — “ and I’m gwine to git on these here 
knees” — slapping the right one — “ and I’m Vr-e-v-e~r 
gwine to quit the grit ontwell I feel it’s got the 
blessin’! And nobody aint got to be thar but 
me !” 

Mr. Bugg greatly admired the Captain’s fervent 
piety, and bidding him God-speed, turned off. 

Captain Suggs “struck for” the swamp sure 
enough, where his horse was already hitched. “ Ef 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


133 


them fellers aint done to a cracklin,” he muttered to 
himself as he mounted, “ /’ll never bet on two pair 
agin ! They’re peart at the snap game, theyselves ; 
but they’re badly lewed this hitch ! Well ! Live 
and let live is a good old motter, and it’s my senti- 
ments adzactly !” And giving the spur to his horse, 
off he cantered. 


134 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS/ 


CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH. 

THE CAPTAIN IS ARRAIGNED BEFORE ‘‘ A JURY OF HIS 
COUNTRY.” 

* 

For a year or two after the Captain’s conversion 
at the camp-meeting, the memoranda at our command 
furnish no information concerning him. We next 
find him, at the spring term 1838, arraigned in the 
circuit court for the county of Tallapoosa, charged in 
a bill of indictment with gambling — “ playing at a 
certain game of cards, commonly called Poker ^ for 
money, contrary to the form of the statute, and against 
the peace and dignity of the state of Alabama.” 

Humph!” said the Captain to himself, as Mr. So- 
licitor Belcher read the bill ; “ thaf^s as derned a lie 
as ever Jim Belcher writ ! Thar never were a peace- 
abler or more gentlemanlier game o’ short cards played 
in Datesville — which thar’s a dozen men here is 
kn owin’ to it!” 

Captain Suggs had no particular defence with* 
which to meet the prosecution. It was pretty gene- 
rally understood that the state would make out a 
pretty clear case against him ; and a considerable fine 
— or imprisonment in default of its payment — was the 
certainly expected result. Yet Simon had employed 
— though he had not actually jfeed — counsel, and had 
some sligfit hope that luck, the goddess of his espe- 
cial adoration, would not desert him at the pinch. 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 13^1 

He instructed his lawyer, therefore, to stave off the 
case if possible ; or at any rate, to protract it. 

“ The State against Simon Suggs and Andrew 
alias Andy, Owens. Card-playing. Hadenskeldt for 
the defence. Are the defendants in court?” said the 
judge. 

Simon’s counsel intimated that he was. 

“ Take an alias writ as to Owens — ready for trial 
as to Suggs;” said the solicitor. 

The Captain whispered to his lawyer, and urged 
him to put him on the stand, and make a showing for 
a continuance ; but being advised by that gentleman 
that it would be useless, got him to obtain leave for 
him to go out of court for five minutes. Permission 
obtained, he went out and soon after returned. 

“Is Wat Craddock in court?” asked the solicitor. 

“ Here!” said Wat. 

“ Take the stand, Mr. Craddock!” and Wat obeyed 
and was sworn. 

“ Proceed, Mr. Craddock, and tell the court and 
jury all you know about Captain Suggs’ playing 
cards,” said Mr. Belcher. 

“ Stop!” interposed Simon’s counsel; “do you be- 
lieve in the revelations of Scripture, Mr. Craddock?” 

“ No !” said the witness. 

“ I object then to his testifying,” said Mr. Haden- 
skeldt. 

“ He doesn’t understand the question said the so- 
icitor; “you believe the Bible to be true, don’t 
you ?” addressing the witness. 

I “If the court please — stop ! stop ! Mr. Craddock — 
I’ll ask him another question before he answers that” 
33 


136 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


• — said Mr. Hadenskeldt hastily — did you ever read 
the Bible, Mr. Craddock.?” 

“No,” said Craddock; “ not’s I know on.” 

“ Then I object to his testifying, ot course ; he 
can’t believe what he knows nothing about.” 

“ He has heard it read, I presume,” said Mr. Bel- 
cher; “have you not, Mr. Craddock?” 

“I inought,” said Wat, “ but I don’t know.” 

knoxol Why, don’t you hear it every 
Sunday at church ?” 

“ Ah, but you see,” replied Mr. Craddock, with 
the air of a man about to solve a difficulty to every 
body’s satisfaction — “ You see, I don’t never go to 
meetin!” 

“ Your honor will perceive — ” began Mr. Haden- 
skeldt. 

“ Why — what — how do you spend your time on 
Sunday, Mr. Craddock ?” asked the solicitor. 

“ Sometimes I goes a-fishin on the krick, and 
sometimes I plays marvels,” replied Wat, gaping ex- 
tensively as he spoke. 

“ Any thing else ?” 

“ Sometimes I lays in the sun, back o’ Andy 
Owenses grocery.” 

“ Mr. Belcher,” asked the court, “ is this the only 
witness for the state ?” 

“ We have a half-dozen more.'who can prove all 
the facts ?” 

“ Well then, discharge this man — he’s drunk.” 

Mr. Craddock was accordingly discharged, and 
William Sentell was put upon the stand. Just as he 
had kissed the book, a man, looking hot and w^orried, 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


137 


was seen leaning over the railing which shuts out 
the spectators from the business part of the court- 
room, beckoning to the Captain. 

Simon having obtained leave to see this per- 
son, went to him, and took a note which the other 
held in his hand, and after a few words of conversa- 
tion, turned off’ to read it. As he slowly deciphered 
the words, his countenance changed and he began to 
weep. The solicitor, who knew a thing or two about 
the Captain, laughed ; and so did Mr. Hadenskeldt, 
although he tried to suppress it. 

“ My boys is a-dyin !” said Suggs ; and he threw 
himself upon the steps leading to the judge’s seat, and 
sobbed bitterly. 

“ Come, come. Captain,” said the solicitor ; you 
are a great tactician, but permit me to say that / 
know you. Come, no shamming ; let’s proceed with 
the trial.” 

‘‘ It don’t make no odds to me now, what you do 
about it — ^John and Ben will be in ther graves before 
I git home and the poor fellow groaned heart- 
brea kingly. 

‘‘ Captain,” said Mr. Hadenskeldt, vainly endea- 
vouring to control his risibles, “ let us attend to the 
trial now : may be it isn’t as bad as you suppose.” 

‘‘ No,” said Suggs, “ let ’em find me guilty. I’m 
a poor missuble old man ! The Lord’s a-puaishin 
my gray hairs for my wickedness !” 

Mr. Hadenskeldt took from the Captain’s hand the 
note containing the bad tidings, and to his great as- 
tonishment saw that it was from Dr. Jourdan, a gen- 
tleman well known to him, and entirely above any 


138 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


suspicion of trickery. It set forth that the Captain’s 
sons were at the point of death — one of them beyond 
hope ; and urged the Captain to come home to his af- 
flicted family. Knowing that Suggs was really an 
affectionate father, he was now at no loss to account 
for the naturalness of his grief, which he had before 
supposed to be simulated. He instantly read the note 
aloud, and remarked that he would throw himself 
upon the humanity of the state’s counsel for a con- 
tinuance. 

Simon interposed — ‘‘Never mind,” he sobbed, 
“ ’squire Hadenskeldt — never mind — let ’em try me. 
I’ll plead guilty. The boys will be dead afore I 
could git home any how ! Let ’em send me to jail 
whar thar won’t be any body to laugh at my misry !” 

“ Has this poor old man ever been indicted be- 
fore ?” asked the judge. 

“ Never,” said the solicitor, who was affected al- 
most to tears — “ he has the reputation of being dissi- 
pated and tricky, but I think has never been in court, 
at the instance of the state, before.” 

“Ah, w^ell then, Mr. Belcher,” replied the judge, 
“ I would ‘ nol. pros."^ the case, if I were you, and 
let this grief- stricken old man go home to his dying 
children. He is indicted only for a misdemeanour, 
and it would be absolute inhumanity to keep him 
here ; perhaps that lenity might have a good effect, 
too.” 

This was all the solicitor wished for. He was 
already burning to strike the case off the docket, and 
send Simon home ; for he was one of the men that 
could never look real grief in the face, without a tear 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


139 


in his eye — albeit his mannei was as rough as a Rus- 
sian bear’s. 

So the solicitor entered his nolle prosequi, and the 
Captain was informed that he was at liberty. 

“ May it please your honor, judge,” said he, pick- 
ing up his hat, “ and all you other kind gentlemen” 
— his case had excited universal commiseration 
among the lawyers — ‘that’s taken pity on a poor 
broken-sperrited man — God bless you all for it — it’s 
all I can say or do I” He then left the court-house. 

In the course of an hour or two, the solicitor had 
occasion to go to his room for a paper or book he 
had left there. On his way to the tavern, he observed 
Captain Suggs standing in front of a ‘‘ grocery,” in 
great glee, relating some laughable anecdote. He 
•was astounded ! He called to him, and the Captain 
came. 

‘‘ Captain Suggs,” said the solicitor, ‘‘ how’s this.^ 
Why are you not on the way home And the so- 
licitor frowned like — as only he can frown. 

“ Why bless my soul, Jim,” said Suggs familiarly, 
and with a wdcked smile, ‘‘ aint you hearn about it } 
These here boys in town” — here Simon himself 
frowned savagely — I’ll be d — d in^o an orful h-11, ef 
I don’t knock daylight outen some on ’em — a-sportin 
loi^ my feelins, that way ! They’d better mind — 
jokin’s jokin, but I’ve known men most hellatiously 
kicked for jist sich jokes !” 

“ Well, well,” said Mr. Belcher, who more than 
suspected that he had been “ sold” — “ how was it 

“ You see,” quoth Simon, ‘‘ it was this here way, 
ctly — that note I got in the court-house, was one 


.40 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


Dr. Jourdan sent me last summer, when the boys was 
sicL., and I was on a spree over to Sockapatoy — only 
/ didn’t know ’twas the same. It must ’a drapped 
outen my pocket here, somehow’, and some of these 
cussed towm boys picked it up, tore off the date at the 
bottom, and sent it to me up thar — w^hich, my feelins 
was never hurt as bad before, in the round world. 
But they’d better mind w^ho they poke thar fun at ! 
JVo-o man aint got to sport wi’ my feelins that waj, 
and let me find him out! — Won’t you take some 
sperrits, Jim 

The solicitor turned off' WTathfully, and w^alked 
away. Simon watched him as he went. “ Thar,” 
said he, ‘‘ goes as clever a feller as ever toted a ugly 
head I He’s smart too — d — d smart ; but thar’s some 
people he can’t qu-u-i-te, ad-zact-ly — ” and with- 
out finishing the sentence. Captain Suggs pulled 
down the lower lid of his left eye, wdth the forefinger 
of his right hand ; and having thus impliedly compli- 
mented himself, he walked back to the grocery. 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


141 


CHAPTER THE TWELFTH. 

CONCLUSION AUTOGRAPHIC LETTER FROM SUGGS. 

We were just about penning some brief words, by 
way of conclusion, when there was handed to us a 
letter bearing the superscription, ‘‘ to the edditur of 
the eest Allybammyun, la Fait, chambers Kounty, Al.” 
It was from Suggs. We here present it to our read- 
ers, premising that with the exception of the punc- 
tuation, which we have altered — or rather added — it 
is a faithful transcript : 

“Her Johns — Arter my kompliments, &c. I set 
down to rite you a fu lines consarin of them boss 
papers” (the Captain alludes to the New York Spirit 
of the Times) “ you had sent to me from the norrud, 
which I’m much ableeged for the same, and you kin 
tell the printer to keep a-sendin as long as he wants 
to. The picters is great. That wun bout me and 
Bill and old Jediar,” (Suggs speaks of an illustration, 
published in advance in the “ Spirit,” intended for 
Mr. Porter’s volume, entitled “ The Big Bear of Ar- 
kansas and other Sketches,”) “ I faults in only wun 
purtickler — it’s got a punchun fence in the place of a 
rale one — which I never seed a punchun fence in my 
life exsept round a garding. Thar is a thing ’sprises 
me mightly ; how in life did the feller as drawd that 
picter ever see Bill, which has been ded the rise of 
twenty year? I kin see how he got my feeturs on the 
count of your sendin of ’em on ; but Bill’s what 


142 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


bothers me ! And thar he is, in the picter, with moie 
giniwine nigger in him an you’ll find nowadaze in a 
whole korn-field — owin to the breed bein so devil- 
ishly mixed. That uther picter,” (intended also for 
Mr. Porter’s volume,) “ bout the feller swallerin the 
aushter, kums nigher draggin the bush up by the 
roots an a most enny thing I ever seed. Couldn’t 
you git the printer to make me wun jist like it, only 
about 4 foot squar (Can you, Mr. Darley ?) 

Oh Johns, don’t you mind what the boys tells 
you bout my bein mad on the count of your ritin bout 
me. You mind they had jist sich a lie out bout me 

and Charly McL e — which thar come d — d nigh 

bein gallons of blood drawd about it. I newer wus 
mad, only sed I should be ef you rit that story bout 
the muscadine vine on the river, which I wouldn’t 
care a dried-apple d — m for ‘ the boys^ to know it, 
only the old woman would be shure to hear bout it, 
and then the yeath would shake ! Wimmin is a mon- 
stus jellus thing. 

“ In the place of that air story consarnin of the 
muscadines. I’ll give you a itum bout the way I 
sarved that swindlin missheen they had in Wetump- 
ky, that they kalled the Wetumpky Tradin Kum- 
piny ; which, you bein of a brittish feddul edditur — 
and usetur to be as nisey a dimmikrat as ever drinkt 
whiskey, more’s yer shame now — you kin fix it up 
to the best advantedge.” (Tell your own story, Cap- 
ting!) 

“ You see I was thar bout the time the thing 
started, and they hadn’t more’n got out bills enuf to 
shingle a small sized fire-proof war-house, and they 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


143 


■wanted to git out a few more. So they comes to me 
— see, they’d hearn I was smart for a feller as had no 
eddication — and ses old Chamblin, which were the 
prezzident, ses he, capting Suggs, we’ve understood 
you’re a gentleman of great feenanshul abillitys, and 
the institushun would be glad to have your sarvices 
in gittin of its notes inter surkilashun. I knowd in a 
minnit what he was up to ; so I tetched my hat to 
him, and ses I, tell the institushun I’ll be very happy 
to do what I kin, purvidin it pays me for the trouble. 
Well, we argied it all over, and at last they agrees 
to give me $2000 dollars in thar bills, to go out wun 
month and buy niggars for ’em with thar money. 
But fust, you see, they interduces me to a mister 
Smith, and ses old Chamblin, ses he, capting Suggs, 
onv friend, mister Smith, will meet you by axident in 
Urwintun, and sell you too or three niggers for our 
notes — you understand — jist to start the thing. And 
then the old feller made monkey moshins to let me 
know twas to be a sham sale to git other people to 
sell for the same money — which I seed inter the thing 
from the jump. I didn’t say nuthin, but jist batted 
my eye at old Chamblin, and he laffed ; and mister 
Smith said he was willin to sell for that sort of money, 
for he looked on the institushun as bein the most the 
saulventest in the stait. 

Well, they gin me my $2000 dollars to itself, and 
then they krammed my ole saddel baggs as full as 
they’d hold of thar bills, and I maid a brake on a 
bee line for Urwinton. Thar I gin out I wanted to 
buy niggars to stock my plantashun ; but people sed 
my money was too nu and too much of a kind. So 


144 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


I couldn’t buy none. Bimeby mister Smith he come 
along, and he wouldn’t have nothin hut Tradin Kum- 
pany money for his niggers. Well, we happened to- 
gether in the biggest crowd we could find, and struk 
up a trade c?^rectly. He had a kupple of mighty 
likely nigger fellers, and I gin him $1100 dollars for 
the two. Still, somehow or another, the fish wouldri^t 
bite ! Peeple had tuk a distaist to the money, and 
exsept a $100 dollers I paid my tavurn bill with, and 
$500 dollers I anteed off amongst the boys of a night, 
I couldn’t git ofl[‘ a sent. From that I tuk off, all 
over the kuntry, and tried my d — dst, but it wouldnH 
grind no way you could let the water on it. So at 
the eend of the month, I got back home, and hadn’t 
been thar long afore old Chamblin come up for a set- 
tleme? 2 ^. I soon told him how the thing stood, and 
axed him to take back his d — d old bills, for peeple 
shunned ’em like the small-pox : even the niggers 
knowd they warn’t no ’count. The ole feller looked 
as pided as a rattle-snaik, I tell you ! Well, ses he, 
what did you do with Smith’s niggers ? Sold ’em, 
ses I. Ah, ses he, you ortent to a done that — what 
did you git for ’em ? A thousen dollers, ses I, in 
staiL money. Purty good, ses he — purty good ! — see 
they warn’t wuth more’n that. Well, ses he, you’d 
better giv me the money and let me reseet you — 
we’re wantin stait funds down at the institushun 
mightily. I reckon not, ses I. Wh-a-t! ses he. 
Ses I, I bought them niggers with my own funds 
which you paid me; and, ses I, its mighty well I got 
off part of my money that way, or I should a’ lost it 
ally ses I. Then he snorted ! You’re a swindler, 



‘•I rolled up my shirt sleeves — which it was a tolluble warm day and my 
koat was off — and ses I, you see that boss yonder?”— i’upe 147. 








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CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


147 


ses he ! How ? ses 1. Them niggers b’longed to the 
institushiin, ses he, and Smith was only agent. Well, 
ses I, didn’t I pay the agent of the institushun $1100 
d oilers for ’em ? ses I. Call that swindlin } ses I. 
Paid ’em in ther own paper too ! ses I. Well, that 
sorter stumped him, but he kep up a h-11 of a grow- 
lin, ontwell at last, finally, I rolled up my shirt sleeves 
— which it was a tollable warm day and my koat was 
off — and ses I, you see that boss yonder ? ses 1. Yes, 
ses he. It’s your boss, aint it } ses I. Yes, ses he. 
Well, ses I, ef you don’t want to be eet up bodda- 
ciously, ses I, you’d better git a-top of him and slope I 
and I gin him the sivvairest look he ever seed. Sure 
enuf, he tuk me at my word, and I aint hearn from 
him nor his d — d rotten institushun sense ! 

When you come over to cort, Johns, I want you to 
fech me a kupple of packs of the dokkyments — strip- 
pers^ ef kunvenient. My ole woman has burnt up, 
fust and last, nigh on to a bunded packs for me, and 
it’s onpossible to keep ’em in the house. Thar’s a 
new set of fellers come about, thinks they’re smart at 
Poaker, which I want ’em to larn me a little. Never 
mind bout not sendin the money to pay for the dok- 
kyments — I kin win the price of you when you come 
over, the first game, three up. Nothin more at pre- 
sent, only be purticler to keep that muscadine story 
back — and look here, Johns, quit ritin lies for the 
d — d feddul whigs, and come back to your ole prin- 
rf»pels !” Yours, in haist. 

Men of Tallapoosa, we have done ! Suggs is be- 


148 


CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 


fore you ! We have endeavoured to give the promi- 
nent events of his life with accuracy and impartiality. 
If you deem that he has “ done the state some ser- 
vice,” remember that he seeks the Sheriffalty of your 
county. He waxes old. He needs an office, the 
emoluments of which shall be sufficient to enable him 
to relax his intellectual exertions. His military ser- 
vices ; his numerous family ; his long residence among 
you ; his gray hairs — all plead for him ! Remember 
him at the polls ! 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


PART FIRST. 

The collection of statistical information concerning 
the resources and industry of the country, by the as- 
sistant marshals who were employed to take the last 
census, was a very difficult work. The popular im- 
pression, that a tremendous tax would soon follow the 
minute investigation of the private affairs of the peo- 
ple, caused the census-taker to be viewed in no better 
light than that of a tax-gatherer ; and the consequence 
was, that the information sought by him was either 
withheld entirely, or given with great reluctance. 
The returns, therefore, made by the marshals, exhibit 
a very imperfect view of the wealth and industrial 
progress of the country. In some portions of the 
country the excitement against the unfortunate officers 
— who were known as the “ chicken men” — made it 
almost dangerous for them to proceed with the busi- 
ness of taking the census ; and bitter were the taunts, 
threats, and abuse which they received on all hands, 
but most particularly from the old women of the coun- 
try. The dear old souls could not bear to be cate- 
chised about the produce of their looms, poultry 

149 


150 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


yards, and dairies ; and when they did “ come down” 
upon the unfortunate inquisitor, it was with a force 
and volubility that were sure to leave an impression. 
We speak from experience, and feelingly, on this 
subject ; for it so happened, that the Marshal of the 
Southern District of Alabama, “ reposing especial 
confidence” in our ability, invested us one day with 
all the powers of assistant Marshal ; and arming us 
with the proper quantity of blanks, sent us forth to 
count the noses of all the men, women, children, and 
chickens resident upon those nine hundred square 
miles of rough country which constitute the county 
of Tallapoosa. Glorious sport! thought we; but it 
didn’t turn out so. True, we escaped without any 
drubbings, although we came unpleasantly near catch- 
ing a dozen, and only escaped by a very peculiar 
knack we have of “ sliding out but then we were 
quizzed, laughed at, abused, and nearly drowned. 
Children shouted “ Yonder goes the chicken man !” 
Men said, “ Yes, d — n him, he’ll be after the taxes 
soon ; — and the old women threatened, if he came to 
inquire about their chickens, “ to set the dogs on 
him,” while tb i young women observed “ they didn’t 
know what a nan wanted to be so pertic’lar about 
gals’ ages for, without he was a gwine a-courtin’.” 
We have some reminiscences of our official peregri- 
nations that will do to laugh at now, although the 
occurrences with which they are connected were, at 
the time, any thing but mirth inspiring to us. 

We rode up one day to the residence of a widow 
rather past the prime of life— just that period at which 
nature supplies most abundantly the oil which lubri- 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


151 


cates the hinges of the female* tongue — and hitching 
to the fence, walked into the house. 

“ Good morning, madam,” said we, in our usual 
bland, and somewhat insinuating manner. 

“ Homin’,” said the widow gruffly. 

Drawing our blanks from their case, we proceeded 
— “I am the man, madam, that takes the census, 
and ” 

“ The mischief you are !” said the old termagant. 
“ Yes, I’ve hearn of you ; Parson W. told me you 
was coming, and I told him jist what I tell you, that 
if you said ‘ cloth,’ ‘ soap,’ ur ‘ chickens,’ to me, I’d 
set the dogs on ye. — Here, Bull ! here, Pomp !” Two 
wolfish curs responded to the call for Bull and Pomp, 
by coming to the door, smelling at our feet with a 
slight growl, and then laid down on the steps. 
“ Now,” continued the old she savage, “ them’s the 
severest dogs in this country. Last week Bill Sto 
Decker’s two year old steer jumped my yard fence, 
and Bull and Pomp tuk him by the throat, and they 
killed him afore my boys could break ’em loose, to 
save the world.” 

“ Yes, ma’am,” said we, meekly; “ Bull and Pomp 
seem to be very fine dogs.” 

“ You may well say that : what I tells them to do 
they do — and if I was to sick them on your old boss 
yonder, they’d eat him up afore you could say Jack 
Roberson. And its jist what I shall do, if you try to 
pry into my consarns. They are none of your busi- 
ness, nor Van Buren’s nuther, I reckon. Oh, old 
Van Banburen ! I wish I had you here, you old ras- 
cal ! Pd show you what — I’d— I’d make Bull and 


152 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


Pomp show you how to be sendin’ out men to take 
down what little stuff people’s got, jist to tax it, when 
its taxed enough a’ready!” 

All this time we were perspiring through fear of 
the fierce guardians of the old widow’s portal. At 
length, when the widow paused, we remarked that 
as she was determined not to answer questions about 
the produce of the farm, we would just set down the 
age, sex, and complexion of each member of her 
family. 

“ No sich a thing — you’ll do no sich a thing,” said 
she; ‘‘I’ve got five in family, and that’s all you’ll git 
from me. Old Van Buren must have a heap to do, 
the dratted old villyan, to send you to take down how 
old my children is. I’ve got five in family, and they 
are all between five and a hundred years old ; they 
are all a plaguy sight whiter than you, and whether 
they are he or she^ is none of your consarns.” 

We told her we would report her to the Marshal, 
and she would be fined : but it only augmented her 
wrath. 

“Yes! send your marshal, or your Mr. Van Buren 
here, if you’re bad off to — let ’em come — let Mr. Van 
Buren come” — looking as savage as a Bengal tigress 
— “ Oh, I wish he would come” — and her nostrils 
dilated, and her eyes gleamed — “ I’d cut his head 
off!” 

“ That might kill him,” we venturea to remark, 
by way of a joke. 

“ Kill him ! kill him — oh — if I had him here by the 
years I reckon I would kill him. A pretty fellow to 
be eating his vittils out’n gold spoons that poor 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


153 


people’s taxed for, and raisin’ an army to get him 
made king of Ameriky — the oudacious, nasty, stink- 
ing old scamp 1” She paused a moment, and then 
resumed, “And now, mister, jist put, down what J 
tell you on that paper, and don’t be telling no lies to 
send to Washington city. Jist put down ‘Judy 
Tompkins, ageable woman, and four children.’ ” 

We objected to making any such entry, but the old 
hag vowed it should be done, to prevent any misre- 
presentation of her case. We, however, were pretty 
resolute, until she appealed to the couchant whelps, 
Bull and Pomp. At the first glimpse of their teeth, 
our courage gave way, and we made the entry in a 
bold hand across a blank schedule — “Judy Tomp- 
kins, ageable woman and four children.” 

We now begged the old lady to dismiss her canine 
friends, that we might go out and depart ; and forth- 
with mounting our old black, we determined to give 
the old soul a parting fire. Turning half round, in 
order to face her, we shouted — 

“ Old ’oman !” 

“ Who told you to call me old ’oman, you long- 
legged, hatchet-faced whelp, ycu.^^ I’ll make the 
dogs take you off that horse if you give me any more 
sarse. What do you want ?” 

“ Do you want to get married 
“ Not to you, if I do !” 

“ Placing our right thumb on the nasal extremity 
of our countenance, we said, “ You needn’t be uneasy, 
old ’un, on that score — thought you might suit sore- 
legged Dick S up our way, and should like to 

34 


154 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


know what to tell him he might count on, if he cout « 
down next Sunday !” 

‘‘Here, Bull!” shouted the widow, “sick him, 
Pomp!” but we cantered off, unwounded, fortunate- 
ly, by tha fangs of Bull and Pomp, who kept up the 
chase as long as they could hear the cheering voice 
of their mistress — “ Si-c-k, Pomp — sick, sick, si-c-k 
him. Bull — suboy! suboy! suboy!” 

Our next adventure was decidedly a dangerous 
one. Fording the Tallapoosa river, where its bed is 
extremely uneven, being formed of masses of rock 
full of fissures, and covered with slimy green moss, 
when about two-thirds of the way across, we were 
hailed by Sol Todd from the bank we were approach- 
ing. We stopped to hear him more distinctly. 

“ Hellow ! little ’squire, you a-chicken hunting to- 
day ?” 

Being answered affirmatively, he continued — “ You 
better mind the holes in them ere rocks — if your 
horse’s foot gits ketched in ’em you’ll never git it 
out. You see that big black rock down to your 
right } Well, there’s good bottom down below that. 
Strike down thar, outside that little riffle — and now 
cut right into that smooth water and come across !” 

We followed Sol’s directions to the letter, and 
plunging into the smooth water^ we found it to be a 
basin surrounded with steep ledges of rock, and deep 
enough to swim the horse we rode. Round and 
round the poor old black toiled without finding any 
place at which he could effect a landing, so precipi- 
tous were the sides. Sol occasionally asked us “ if 
the bottom was’nt first rate,” but did nothing to help 


TAKING THE CENSUS 


155 


us. At length we scrambled out, wet and chilled to 
the bone — for it was a sharp September morning — 
and continued our journey, not a little annoyed by the 
boisterous, roaring laughter of the said Solomon, at 
our picturesque appearance. 

We hadn’t more than got out of hearing of Sol’s 
cachinatory explosions, before we met one of his 
neighbours, who gave us to understand that the duck- 
ing we had just received, was but the fulfilment of a 
threat of Sol’s, to make the “ chicken-man” take a 
swim in the ‘‘ Buck Hole.” He had heard of our 
stopping on the opposite side of the river the night 
previous, and learning our intention to ford just where 
we did, fixed himself on the bank to insure our find- 
ing the way into the ‘‘ Buck Hole.” 

This information brought our nap right up, and re- 
questing Bill Splawn to stay where he was till we re- 
turned, we galloped back to Sol’s, and found that 
wmrthy, rod on shoulder, ready to leave on a fishing 
excursion. 

Sol, old fellow,” said we, that v as a most un- 
fortunate lunge I made into that hole in the river — 
I’ve lost twenty-five dollars in specie out of my coat 
pocket, and I’m certain it’s in that hole, for I felt my 
pocket get light while I was scuffling about in there. 
The money was tied up tight in a buckskin pouch, 
and I must get you to help me get it.” 

This of course, was a regular old-fashioned lie, as 
we had not seen the amount of cash mentioned as lost, 
in a “ coon’s age.” It took, however, pretty well ; 
and Sol concluded, as it was a pretty cold spell of 
weather for the season, and the water was almost like 


156 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


ice, that half the contents of the buckskin pouch 
would be just about fair for recovering it. After 
some chaffering, we agreed that Sol should dive for 
the money “ on shares,” and we went down with 
him to the river, to point out the precise spot at 
which our pocket grew light.” We did so with 
anxious exactness, and Sol soon denuded himself and 
went under the water in the “ Buck Hole,” ‘‘ like a 
shuffler duck with his wing broke.” Puff! puff! as 
he rose to the surface. “ Got it Sol!” “ No dang it, 
hear goes again” — and Sol disappeared a second 
time. Puff! puff ! and a considerable rattle of teeth 
as Sol once more rose into “upper air.” “What 
luck, old horse ?” “ By jings, I felt it that time, b'lt 

somehow it slid out of my fingers.” Down went Sol 
again, and up he came after the lapse of a minute, 
still without the pouch. “ Are you right sure ’squire, 
that you lost it in this hole,” said Sol, getting out upon 
a large rock, while the chattering of his teeth divided 
his words into rather more than their legitimate num- 
ber of syllables. “ Oh perfectly certain Sol, per- 
fectly certain. You know twenty-five dollars in hard 
money weigh a pound or two. I didn’t mention the 
circumstance when I first came out of the river, be- 
cause I was so scared and confused that I didn’t re- 
member it — but I know just as well when the pouch 
broke through my coat pocket, as can be !” 

Thus reassured, Sol took the water again, and, as 
we were in a hurry, we requested him to bring the 
pouch and half the money to Dadeville, if his diving 
rhould prove successful. 

“ To be sure I will,” said he, and his blue lips 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 157 

quivered with cold, and his whole frame shook from 
the same cause. 

The “ river ager” made Sol shake worse than that, 
that fall. 

But we left him diving for the pouch industriously, 
and no doubt he would have got it, if it had been 
there ! 

Once, as we were about to leave a house at which 
we had put up the night previous, one of the girls — a 
buxom one of twenty — followed us to the fence, and 
the following tete-a-tete ensued : 

“ Now, ’squire they say you know, and I want you 
to tell me, ef you please — what will chickens be wuth 
this fall.?” 

‘‘ How many have you 

‘‘ The rise of seventy, and three hens a-settin !” 

‘‘ Well now. Miss Betsy,” said we, “ you know 
how much I set by the old man your daddy — and the 
old lady, you know how slie and me always got along 
— and Jim and Dave, you know we was always like 
brothers — and yourself. Miss Betsy, I consider my 
particular friend — and as it’s you. I’ll tell you !” 

“ Do, ’squire, ef you please ; they say Van Buren’s 
going to feed his big army on fowls ; and some folks 
say he’s going to take ’em without payin’ for ’em, and 
some say he aint — and I thought in course, ef he did 
pay for ’em, the price would rise !” 

“ Well, the fact is — but don’t say nothing about it 
— the army is to be fed on fowls ; the roosters will 
be given to the officers to make ’em hrave^ and the 
hens to the common soldiers ; because, you see, they 
aint as good.” 


158 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


“ In coarse !” 

“ So you see, the hens will be worth about three 
bits, and roosters a half a dollar, and ready sale, at 
that.” 

She was perfectly delighted, and we do not hesi- 
tate to say, would have rewarded us with a kiss, if 
we had asked it ; but in those days modesty w^as the 
bright trait in our character. As it was, she only in- 
sisted on our taking “a bit of something cold” in our 
saddle-bags, in case we should reach town too late 
for dinner. 

Our next encounter was with an old lady notorious 
in her neighbourhood for her garrulity and simple- 
mindedness. Her loquacity knew no bounds ; it was 
constant, unremitting, interminable, and sometimes 
laughably silly. She was interested in quite ' a large 
chancery suit which had been ‘‘ dragging its slow 
length along” for several years, and furnished her 
with a conversational fund which she drew upon ex- 
tensively, under the idea that its merits could never 
be sufficiently discussed. Having been warned of 
her propensity, and being somewhat hurried when 
we called upon her, we were disposed to get through 
business as soon as possible, and without hearing her 
enumeration of the strong points of her law case. 
Striding into the house, and drawing our papers — 

“ Taking the census, ma’am!” quoth we. 

“ Ah ! well I yes I bless your soul, honey, take a seat. 
Now do! Are you the gentleman that Mr. Van Bu- 
ren has sent out to take the sensis9 I w^onder ! well, 
good Lord look down, how was Mr. Van Buren ano 
family when you seed him ?” 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


159 


We explained that we had never seen the presi- 
dent; didn’t “know him from a side of sole lea- 
ther;” and we had been written to, to take the 
census. 

“ Well, now, thar agin! Love your soul! Well, 
I ’spose Mr. Van Buren writ you a letter, did he ^ 
No.!^ Well, I suppose some of his officers done it — 
bless my soul.^ Well, God be praised, there’s mighty 
little here to take down — times is hard, God’s will be 
done; but looks like people can’t git their jest rights 
in this country ; and the law is all for the rich and 
none for the poor, praise the Lord. Did you ever 
hear tell of that case my boys has got agin old Simp- 
son Looks like they never will git to the eend on 
it ; glory to His name ! The children will sutTer I’m 
mightily afeerd; Lord give us grace. Bid you ever 

see Judge B } Yes.^ Well, the Lord preserve 

us ! Did you ever here him say what he was agwine 
to do in the boys’ case agin Simpson.^ No! Good 
Lord! Well, ’squire, will you ax him the next time 
you see him, and write me word ; and tell him what 
I say ; I’m nothing but a poor widow, and my boys 
has got no larnin, and old Simpson tuk ’em in. It’s 
a mighty hard case on my boys any how. They 
ought to ha’ had a mighty good start, all on ’em ; but 
God bless you, that old man has used ’em up twcll 
they aint able to buy a creetur to plough with. It’s 
a mighty hard case, and the will oughtn’t never to a 
been broke, but ” 

Here we interposed and told the old lady that our 
time w^as precious — that we wdshed to take down the 
number of her family, and the produce raised by her 


160 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


last year, and be off. After a good deal of trouble 
Ve got through with the descriptions of the members 
of her family, and the “ statistical table” as far as the 
article ‘‘cloth.” 

“ How many yards of cotton cloth did you weave 
in 1840, tna’am ?” 

“Well, now! The Lord have mercy! — less see! 
You know Sally Higgins that used to live down in 
the Smith settlement } — poor thing, her daddy druv 
her off on the ’count of her havin’ a little ’un, poor 
creetur! — poor gal, she couldn’t help it, I dare say. 
Well, Sally she come to stay ’long wi’ me when the 
old man druv her away, and she was a powerful 
good hand to weave, and I did think she’d help me 
a power. Well, arter she’d bin here awhile, her 
baby hit took sick, and old Miss Stringer she under- 
tuk to help it — she’s a powerful good hand, old Miss 
Stringer, on roots, and yearbs, and sich like! Well, 
the Lord look down from above! She made a sort 
of a tea, as I was a-saying, and she gin it to Sally’s 
baby, but it got wuss — the poor creetur — and she gin 
it tea, and gin it tea, and looked like, the more she 
gin it tea, the more ” 

“My dear madam, I am in a hurry — please tell 
me how many yards of cotton cloth you wove in 
1840. I want to get through with you and go on.” 

“Well, well, the Lord-a-mercy! who’d a thought 
you’d ’a bin so snappish! Well, as I was a’ sayin’. 
Sail’s child hit kept a gittin’ wuss, and old Miss 
Stringer, she kept a givin’ it the yearb tea twell at 
last the child hit looked like hit would die any how. 
And ’bout the time the child was at its wust, old 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


161 


Daddy Sykes he come along, and he said if we’d git 
some night-shed berries, and stew ’em with a little 
cream and some hog’s lard — now old daddy Sykes is 
a mighty fine old man, and he gin the boys a heap of 
mighty good counsel about that case — boys, says he, 
I’ll tell you what you do ; you go ” 

“ In God’s name, old lady,” said we, tell about 
your cloth, and let the sick child and Miss Stringer, 
Daddy Sykes, the boys, and the law suit go to the 
devil. I’m in a hurry !” 

“ Gracious bless your dear soul ! don’t git aggra- 
wated. I was jist a tollin’ you how it come I didn’t 
weave no cloth last year.” 

‘‘Oh, well, you didn’t weave any cloth last year. 
Good! we’ll go on to the next article.” 

“Yes! you see the child hit begun to swell and 
turn yaller^ and hit kept a walliiC its eyes and a 
moanin’, and I knowed ” 

“Never mind about the child — just tell me the 
value of the poultry you raised last year.” 

“ Oh, well — yes — the chickens you mean. Why, 
the Lord love your poor soul, I reckon you never in 
your horn days seen a poor creetur have the luck that 
I did — and looks like we never shall have good luck 
agin ; for ever sence old Simpson tuk that case up to 
the chancery court ” 

“ Never mind the case; let’s hear about the chick- 
ens, if you please.” 

“ God bless you, honey, the owls destroyed in and 
about the best half what I did raise. Every blessed 
night the Lord sent, they’d come and set on the comb 


162 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


of the house, and hoo-hoo hoo, and one night jiartick’ 
lar, I remember, I had jisl got up to the night-shed 
salve to ^nint the little gal with ” 

“ Well, well, what was the value of what you did 
raise ?” 

“ The Lord above look down ! They got so bad 
— the owls did — that they tuk the old hens, as well’s 
the young chickens. The night I was telling ’bout, 
I hearn somethin’ squall! squall! and says. I’ll bet 
that’s old Speck that nasty oudacious owl’s got ; for I 
seen her go to roost with her chickens, up in the 
plum tree, fornenst the smoke house. So I went to 
w^har old Miss Stringer was sleepin’, and says I, Miss 
Stringer! Oh! Miss Stringer! sure’s you’re born, 
that stinkin’ owl’s got old Speck out’n the plum tree ; 
well, old Miss Stringer she turned over ’pon her side 
like, and says she, what did you say. Miss Stokes ? 
and says I ” 

We began to get very tired, and signified the same 
to the old lady, and begged she would answer us di- 
rectly, and without any circumlocution. 

‘‘ The Lord Almighty love your dear heart, honey, 
I’m tellin’ you as fast as I kin. The owls they got 
worse and worse, after they’d swept old Speck and 
all h£r gang, they went to work on ’tothers; and 
Bryant (that’s one of my boys,) he ’lowed he shoot 
the pestersome creeturs — and so one night arter that, 
we hearn one holler, and Bryant, he tuk the old mus- 
ket and went out, and sure enough, there was owley, 
[as he thought,) a-settin’ on the comb of the house ; 
so he blazed away and down come what on 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


163 


(lirth did come down, do you reckon ; w^hen Bryant 
fired ?” 

“ The owl, I suppose.” 

No sich a thing, no sich ! the owl warnH thar, 
’Twas my old house-cat come a tumblin’ down, spit- 
tin’, sputterin’, and scratchin’, and the furr a flyin’ 
every time she jumped, like you’d a busted a feather 
bed open! Bryant he said, the way he come to 
shoot the cat instead of the owl, he seed something 
white ” 

“For Heaven’s sake Mrs. Stokes, give me the 
value of your poultry, or say you will not ! Do one 
thing or the other.” 

“ Oh, well, dear love your heart, I reckon I 
had last year nigh about the same as I’ve got 
this.” 

“ Then tell me how many dollars worth you have 
now, and the thing’s settled.” 

“ I’ll let you see for yourself,” said the widow 
Stokes, and taking an ear of corn out of a crack be- 
tween the logs of the cabin, and shelling off a hand- 
ful, she commenced scattering the grain, all the 
while screaming, or rather screeching — “ chick — 
chick — chick — chick-ee — chick-ee — chick-ee — ee I” 

Here they came, roosters, and hens, and pul- 
lets, and little chicks — crowing, cackling, chirping; 
dying and fluttering over beds, chairs, and tables; 
ilighting on the old woman’s head and shoulders, 
fluttering against her sides, pecking at her hands, 
and creating a din and confusion altogether inde- 
scribable. The old lady seemed delighted, thus to 
exhibit her feathered “stock,” and would occasion- 


164 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


ally exclaim — a nice passel, aint they — a nice 
passel !” But she never would say what they were 
worth ; no persuasion could bring her to the point ; 
and our papers at Washington contain no esti- 
mate of the value of the widow Stokes’ poultry, 
though, as she said her herself, she had “ a mighty 
nice passel 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


165 


PART SECOND. 

When we were taking the census in Tallapoosa, 
we had a rare frolic at old Kit Kuncker’s, up on 
Union creek, which we must tell about. But first lei 
us introduce uncle Kit. 

Old Kit was a fine specimen of the old-fashioned 
Georgia wagoner, of the glorious old times when lo- 
comotives didn’t whiz about in every direction. He 
was brought up on the road, and retained a fondness 
(or his early vocation, though now in comparative af- 
fluence. Uncle Kit was sixty years old, we suppose, 
but the merriest old dog alive ; and his chirrupping 
laugh sounded every minute in the day. Particularly 
fond of female society, his great delight was to plague 
the ‘‘ womanhood” of his household and settlement, 
in every possible way. His waggery, of one sort or 
other, was incessant ; and as he was the patriarch of 
his neighbourhood — having transplanted every family 
in it, with himself, from Georgia — his jokes were all 
considered good jokes, and few dared be offended at 
his good-humored satire. Besides all this. Uncle 
Kit was a devoted Jackson man, and an inveterate 
hater of all nullifiers : hence the name of his creek. 

Two ‘‘ chattels” had Mr. Kuncker which he prized 
beyond all his other possessions — one of these was a 
big yellow dog that followed the wagon, and among 
other accomplishments, predicted the future. Uncle 
Kit called him Andy, in honcr of General Jackson. 


166 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


The other favourite was a fine old roan horse, named 
“ Fiddler Bill,” upon which, when a little “ drinky,” 
ne was wont to exhibii very fair horsemanship in the 
streets, or rather, the stre«^ of Dudleyville. 

We were making an entry of somebody’s chickens 
at a store door in the village just mentioned, one Au- 
gust day, when a familiar “ hillo !” reached our ear, 
and turning round, we perceived, some twenty yards 
off, the quizzical face of our old friend, projecting 
over the fore-gate of his wagon, and puckered into 
five hundred little wrinkles as he cachinnated joy- 
ously — 

“ Hillo, ’squire! bless your little union snake-skin, 
yer uncle Kit’s so glad to see x>m, ha! ha! I’m jist 
back from Wetumpky, hi' ya! You see, yer 
uncle Kit’s been down tv> the trimmins for neice 
Susy’s weddin, next Tnursday night. You must 
come over ’squire — it’s Jim Spraggins that’s gwine 
to pick up Suse ; you see yer uncle Kit waited for you 
twell he found you wouldnH talk it out, he! he ! ha’ 
—come over, as I was a-sayin, and you kin take the 
sensis of the whole krick at one settin, and buss all 
the gals besides, he ! a ! yah ! yah ! 

We thanked uncle Kit, and told him we w^ould 
come ; whereupon the jovial old fellow whistled to 
Andy — who had stepped into the “ grocery,” think- 
ing that, of course, his master would stop there^ any 
how — “ clucked” to Fiddler Bill, who worked in the 
lead, cracked the steers at the wheels, and so started. 

In a moment we heard the sharp “hillo!” again. 

“You must be sure to come, ’squire,’' said uncle 
Kit, stopping his team so as to be heard ; “ yer aunt 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


167 


Hetty will look for you certain, he! he! — and if she 
can raise somethin for you to eat, and a year or two 
o’ corn for your horse, any way in the world, you will 
be as welcome to it as the water that runs and Mr. 
Kuncker chuckled terribly at the bare idea of our 
aunt Hetty’s being straitened to provide viands for 
animals human or equine ! 

We repeated our assurances that we should attend ; 
and uncle Kit reassuming the lines, said — ‘‘ Well, 
now I’m off sure, ’squire ! God bless you and Gin- 
nel Jackson, and d — n the nullifiers! Wake up. Fid! 
Good bye” — and rolled off. 

Once again, however, he stopped and shouted 
back — “Don’t be afeard to come! Yer uncle Kii 
has fust-rate spring-water, alters on hand !” and he 
chuckled longer than before, at the wit of calling 
corn-whiskey “ spring-water and put his finger by 
the side of his old cut-water of a nose ! So lively an 
old dog was uncle Kit Kuncker ! 

On the appointed evening, we arrived at Mr. 
Kuncker’s about dark. The old man was waiting at 
the fence to receive us. 

“ Bless your union soul, little squire,” he said, 
b'haking our extended hand with both of his ; “ yer 
uncle Kit is as proud to see you, as ef he’d a found 
a silver dollar with a hole through it ! Hetty !” he 
shouted, “ here’s the God-blessed little union ’squire 
come to see his uncle ! Come out and see him, he ! 
he! yah ! and, mind and throw a meal-bag, or some- 
thin else over your head, twell my little ’squire gits 
sorter usen to the Mg ugly! Make haste you old 
dried-up witch ! Ef you can’t find the bag, take yer 


168 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


apern! he! he! e! a! yah!” and uncle Kit laughed till 
he cried. 

Mrs. Kuncker presently made her appearance — not 
with the meal-bag over her head, however — and 
greeted us most hospitably. 

“ Don’t mind old Kit’s romancin ’squire,” she ob- 
served ; ‘‘ I’m afeard he’ll be a fool all his days. 
We’ve been married now, gwine on forty year, and 
he’s never spoke the fust sensible word yit !” 

“ Sorter shade your %es, long at fust, ’squire,” 
remarked uncle Kit, as he busied himself in “ strip- 
ping” our steed, “ when you look at yer aunt Hetty. 
The ugly^s out on her wuss nor the small-pox ! ha ! 
ha! yah! and I’m bound to keep it out too, wi’ all 
sorts o’ w’arm teas. The Lord wdll be mighty apt to 
call her home ef ever it strikes in I’m a-thinkin” — 
and uncle Kit laughed again, while he placed ou< 
saddle upon the fence, with twenty others* 

“ Come in, ’squire,” said aunt Hetty, or that 
poor light-headed old critter ’ill laugh hisself to 
death !” and w^e walked wdth her into Mr. Kuncker’s 
ne?ii, framed dwelling — the only building of the sort 
on Union creek. 

The big room of uncle Kit’s house was full of light 
and of company. Most of the latter were known to 
us, but there were some strange faces ; and with these 
we determined to get acquainted as soon as possible. 
A little removed from the bustling part of the congre- 
gation, w^e observed a fat w’-oman, of middle age, with 
a sleepy expression of face. A little way from her 
feet, and sprawling on the floor, was a chubby child, 
about eighteen months old, whose little coat was 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


169 


pinned up, by the hem behind, to its collar; thus 
leaving no inconsiderable portion of its person ex- 
posed. “ Here,” thought we,” is an interesting fa- 
mily : let’s take it down ;” and approaching the dame, 
we drew our papers, having first saluted her. 

“Gracious! stranger!” she ejaculated, “what’re 
you arter .?” 

“ Only taking the census.” 

“ Sally! oh, Sally Hetson ! do run here,” said Mrs. 
Naron — for that proved to be her name — “ ef here 
aint the man we’ve hearn so much ’bout! Here’s the 
chicken-man! I do wonder!” she continued, sur- 
veying us from crown to sole ; “ Well! hit’s the slim- 
mest critter, to be sure, ever I seed ; Hit’s legs, I 
do declar, is not as big as my Thomas Jeffeison’s! 
Come here Thomas Jefferson, and let manne thee 
ef your legth aint ath big ath hitthen !” addressing the 
youngster on the floor. 

But Thomas Jefferson did not heed the invitation, 
but continued to dabble and splash in a little pool of 
water, which had_spmehow got there, as proud, ap- 
parently, of his sans-culottism, as ever his illustrious 
name-sake could have been of his. 

“ Don’t you hear me, Thomas Jefferson screamed 
the mother — “ don’t you hear me, you little tor- 
ment ?” ' ^ 

Thomas Jefferson did hear this time, and hastened 
to obey. He raised himself up, spread out his fat 
arms to preserve his equilibrium, turned half round, 
lost it, and was instantly seated in the miniature pool 
with a splash that sent several droplets into his mo- 
ther’s face. 

35 


V 


no TAKING THE CENSUS. 

% — 

Mrs. Naron flew at the child with an energy that 
contrasted strongly with her oleaginous appearance , 
and seizing him by the middle, held him up inverted^ 
with one hand, w^hile with the other she inflicted 
what, in our nursery days, would have been called a 
‘‘sound spanking” — w^hich finished, she reseated 
herself, and brought him down in a sitting position 
upon her knee, with sufficient violence to produce a 
sudden abbreviation of as dreadful a howl as ever 
vexed human ear. 

We didn’t altogether relish these indications of a 
vivacious temperament in Mrs. Naron, and accord- 
ingly made our examination as short and smooth as 
possible. And when she d^rhurred to furnishing the 
statistical information, because she “ never had done 
sich a thing afore,” we admitted the cogency of the 
reason, and pressed the matter no further ; for we were 
convinced that the government did not expect its of- 
ficers to run the risk of what Master Thomas Jefferson 
Naron had got, merely to add another dozen yards of 
:;loth, or score of chickens, to the estimated wealth 
of the country ! 

There was now a slight bustle in one corner, for 
which, at first, we couldn’t account. It was among a 
group of young persons, male and female, who ap- 
peared to be urging one of their number to do some- 
thing which he was unwilling, or affected to be un- 
willing to do. “Do now^Pete!” “Oh you Idn— 

* 70U know you kin !” “ Pshaw ! I wouldn’t be a fool !” 
“Jist this one time, Pete!” -were some of the excla- 
mations and expostulations that we heard. They 
were not without effect: a young man in a blue-coat, 



“Mrs. Naron flew at the child with an energy that contrasted strongly with 
her oleaginous appearance; and seizing him by the middle, held him up, 
inverted, with one hand.”— Pcifi'c I'O* 


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TAKING THE CENSUS. 


173 


with big brass buttons, cleared his throat, and com- 
menced singing to a tune whiningly dolorous, nasal, 
unvaried, and interminable, the popular ditty of 

“THE OLD BACHELARE.” 

Come, while you set silent, Fll have you to hear, 

The truth or a lie, from an old bache^arc ; 

They’ll set and they’ll think, twell they war out their brains, 
And wish for a wife — but it is all in vain — 

Sing down, dary down.” 

Before this verse was half-finished, Andy, (the 
dog,) who was coiled up in the entry, commenced a 
howling accompaniment, worse even, than the vocal- 
ism of Mr. Peter Marks, who looked vexed and con- 
fused, and stopped singing. 

‘‘ I wouldn’t mind it, Peter,” said good old Mrs. 
Kuncker, who now approached ; I wouldn’t mind it. 
Its nothin but that dratted yaller brute of old Kit’s 
and, bless the Lord, its jist the way he does me, con- 
stant — his master’s larnt it to hifn — I never kin begin 
t^ sing, ‘ T rode on the sky, quite ondestified I,’ or 
‘Primrose,’ or ‘Zion,’ or any of them sperechal 
himes, but what the stinkin, yaller cuss strikes up his 
everlastin howl, and jist makes me quit whether or 
no !” a/id aunt Hetty went and drove Andy away ! 

“He! he! yah! yah! e-e- yah!” chuckled uncle 
Kit — “ aint Andy got a noble v’ice ? Aint he, squire } 
yah ! yah ! He sings hass^ and yer aunt Hetty sings 
trihble^ and I’m gwine to git a middlin-size dog to 
sing tenor ^ and then we’ll be fixed — he ! he ! yah ! — 
and you must come over every other Sunday to yer 
uncle Kit’s singing school” — laughing immoderatelv 
at the conceit. 


174 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


And Hetty said ‘^pish!” with a worried air, and 
Mr. Marks re-tuned his pipes : 

But when you are married, it is for to please, 

And when you have children you’re never at ease ; 

You’ll go bare and stint, just to make ’em suppo’t, 

But a bachelor’s care is his back and his throat ; 

Sing down, dary down !” 

The applause being loud and enthusiastic- /// • 
Marks passed his right hand over his well-tali /weC 
side locks, glanced at the buttons of his coat, cl^^ared 
his throat, and proceeded to give the other side of the 
picture : 

“ But when you are gone, your wife will prepar’, 

A dish of fine dainties, or somethin’ that’s rar’ ; 

So smilin’ and pleasin’ when you do draw near — 

There’s no such delight for the old bache/arg/ 

Sing down, dary down. 

Andy, by this time, had got under the house, and 
a companied the singer in the two last lines and the 
chorus, without any particular reference to time,” 
but with an earnestness that showed that the love of 
music was in his soul. Mr. Marks bit his lips and 
frowned, but as he had only one more verse to sing, 
determined to try and get through with it : 

“When I go abroad, and sich things I do see — ” 

(Andy howled furiously.) 

“ I wish, but in vain, that it only was me” — 

(“ Oo-oo-au-e-au-00-00-00 !” from the dog!) 

“ Whilst / must both breeches and petticoat ware’’— 

(Andy kept “ even along y) 

“ It grieves me to think I’m an old bache/are; 

Sing down, dary down.” 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


175 


Andy howled through the last line beautifully, but 
getting into the chorus, commenced a series of barks 
which seemed likely to be prolonged indefinitely. 

“ My poor dog !” exclaimed Mr. Kuncker, affect- 
ing great anxiety, my poor dog has got tangled up 
in that cussed tune, and ’ill choke hisself to death ! 
Run Jim,” — to his son — “ and ontie the blasted 
thing, or cut it in two ! yah e-e yah ! yah ! yaw !” 

“ Bein as my kumpny aint adceptable here, I’ll 
dismiss,” said Mr. Marks, the vocalist, in a pet ; at 
the same time buttoning up his blue swallow-tail, and 
sleeking down his greasy locks. 

“ Couldn’t you give us somethin sperechal before 
you go asked uncle Kit, ‘‘ your aunt Hetty and 
Andy’s tip-top on sperechal songs and the wrinkles 
on Mr. Kuncker’s face formed themselves into fifty 
little smilets. 

“ Kee-yow! yow !” all of a sudden from Andy, as 
he run from under the house. 

‘‘Make up your bread with that said aunt 
Hetty, as she raised up with the tea-kettle in her 
hand, from which she had been pouring boiling water 
through a crack upon Andy. 

“ Old ’oman !” said uncle Kit passionately, “ I’ll 
take that dog kleen away” — thinking, in the energy 
of his own affection for Andy, that the announcement 
would have a decidedly painful effect upon the mind 
of his wife — “ and you never shall set eyes upon him 
agin, as long as you liveP"* 

“ I — only — wish — to — the — Lord — in — heaven — 
you wouldP^ said aunt Hetty, emphatically shaking 
her head between each word. 


176 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


I won’t do no sicli a thing !” said old Kit, in the 
spirit of contradiction ; “ I’ll keep him here alters^ jist 
to sing ! He shall sing ‘ Primrose’ ” — 

‘‘ Can’t help it!” 

“ And ‘ Zion,’ and—” 

Can’t help that nuther 1” 

‘‘ ‘Won’t you come and go with me,’ and — ” 

“ Don’t care I” 

“ And all the rest of the songs in the Mezooree 
Harmony, and ‘ Mearcer’s Cluster,’ loo 1 Cust ef he 
shan’t I” 

“Well! well! Christoper, old man!” said aunt 
Hetty, in a conciliatory tone ; “ don’t be aggrawated. 
I oughtent to fret you I know ; and ef Andy ’ll behave 
hisself like a decent dog — like Bull Wilkerson, now, 
for a sample, which never comes in the hou — ” 

“ Thar aint” — said uncle Kit, swelling with indig- 
nation at the indirect attack upon the morals of his 
dog — “ thar aint a dog of a better karackter in the 
settlement than Andy Kuncker — Bull Wilkerson or 
no Bull Wilkerson ! No ! thar aint no better, nor no 
gentlemanlier a dog in the whole county, than Andy ! 
Savin the presence of this kumpny. I’ll be damned ef 
thar is!” and having so spoken, Mr. Kuncker went 
out to seek his dog and console him in his afflictions. 

As soon as Mr. Kuncker returned, the couple de- 
sirous of matrimony, took the floor, and ’squire Berry 
united them in the bonds of wedlock, after the most 
summary fashion. Uncle Kit then announced that 
some “ cold scraps” were to be found in an adjoining 
room — which said “ cold scraps” consisted, princi- 
pally, of one or two half-grown hogs baked brown ; 


TAKING THE CENSUS. VH 

two or three very fat turkeys ; a hind quarter of beef ; 
together with about a half wagon-load of bread, cake, 
pies, stewed fruit, and so forth. 

“ ’Squire! ’squire! don’t set tharP'^ said uncle Kit, 
addressing himself to us, as we were taking a chair 
among the masculine portion of the guests ; “ oh, no! 
he ! yah ! yah ! your uncle Kit didn’t bring you here 
for that, yah! yah! yah! Here’s a little gal has never 
had her sensis taken, and I want you to see ef you 
kan’t git ’em, yah ! yah!” and uncle Kit forced us 
into a chair, greatly against our will, by the side of 
Miss Winny Folsom, a very pretty girl, with a pout- 
ing mouth. Mr. Kuncker drew up a chair behind us. 

Standing near uncle Kit’s back, we observed a 
young man who, somehow or other, took a great ap- 
parent interest in either Miss Winny or ourself ; but 
he said nothing. He was a rare specimen of the 
piney-woods species of the genus homo. His face 
was not unhandsome, but he had a considerable 
stoop of the shoulders, and was knock-kneed to 
deformity. His coat was “ blue mixed,” with a 
very acute terminus, and it seemed to have a 
particular affection for the hump of his shoulders, 
for it touched no other part of his person. His pan- 
taloons were of buS'cassimere — most probably bought 
at second-hand — and contracted, from excessive 
washing, or some other cause, to a painful scantiness. 
There was a white “ streak” between his vest and the 
waistband, and a red one between the ends of the 
legs and the tops of his white cotton socks. A pair 
of red-leather straps, some twenty inches long, exerted 
themselves to keep the legs down to this mark; but 


178 TAKING THE CENSUS. 

every time that Mr. Isaac Hetson — that was his name 
— stooped, the pantaloons had slightly the advantage, 
b} reason of the superior elasticity of the straps, and 
the red streak was, on every such occasion, made a 
little wider. 

“ Talk to her, ’squire ! talk to her !” said uncle 
Kit; “ when yer uncle Kit was young, he did’nt do 
nothin but talk to the gals, he-e-yah ! yah !” 

We endeavoured to make ourself agreeable to Miss 
Winny of course, and during the whispering of one 
of those confidential nothings common in such cir- 
cumstances, our head came almost in contact with 
hers. Seizing the opportunity, Mr. Kuncker brought 
his close up, and with his lips produced such an ex- 
plosion as might have resulted, had we kissed Miss 
Winny. 

“Ha!” exclaimed the old fellow, starting back in 
well-feigned amazement ; “ at it a’ready, ’squire ! 
Well! ’twas a buster^ any way!” — whereupon he 
laughed immoderately, as did most of the company. 
Miss Winny turned red, and we looked foolish — we 
suppose. 

“ Some people’s too derned smart, any how !” 
said the gentleman in buff cassimere, who supposed 
that we had really kissed Miss Winny. 

4nd some aint smart enough, Ikey Hetson,” said 
uncle Kit ; “ or they wouldn’t let other pebple cut 
’em out — would they Winny ?” 

Winny sinded, but said nothing, and Mr, Kuncker 
raising himself half up, so as again to intercept Mr. 
Hetson’s view, produced another explosion. 

“ For shame, ’squire !” said he, sitting down again. 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


179 


“I kin whip any pocket-knife lawyer that ever 
made a moccasin track in Datesvi7/e said Ike, 
^ striding backward and forward behind Mr. Kuncker’s 
chair, like a lion in his cage — furiously jealous. 

Uncle Kit laughed until his wife called to him 
across the room, and told him he was a stark naitral 
old fool !” 

“ I wouldn’t be a gump, ef I was you, Ike Het- 
son,” remarked Miss Winny. 

Them that don’t care nothin for me,” replied 
Ike, “ I don’t care nothin for them, nuther.” 

The ’squire’s mouth aint pisen^ I reckon,” said 
Miss Winny, very sharply ; “ and it wouldn’t kill a 
body ef he did kiss ’em!” 

‘‘ Let’s see 1” said we, doing that same before Miss 
Winny could help herself. 

“ Go it 1 my rip-roarin, little union ’squire : you’re 
elected!” shouted uncle Kit, in a paroxysm of 
delight. 

“ Bern my everlastin dog-skin ef I’ll stand it !” 
said the furious lover — “I’ll die in my tracks fust! 
I’m jist as good as town folks, ef they do war shoe- 
boots and store close. I’m jist a hunderd and forty 
spying pound, neat weight, and I’m a wheel-horse !” 
and then Mr. Hetson doubled his fists and shook him- 
self all over, with an energy that looked dangerous, 
considered in reference to the excessive tightness of 
his buff cassimeres. 

Aunt Hetty now interposed — “ Do Ikey ! do now, 
son, donH be fretted so — don^t be so jealous-hearted ! 
The ’squire didn’t mean no harm in the world, by 


180 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


bussin Winny ; and Winny didn’t mean none by 
lettin of him — ” 

“ I didn’t let him : he done it hisself !” said Winny 
very quickly — and then she pouted. 

“ Oh, well ! we all know that, to be sure,” said 
aunt Hetty. “ It were jist the romancin of that sim- 
ple old crittur, that’s never easy without he’s got 
somebody in a brile. I wouldn’t mind it, Ikey, no 
more’n I would — ” 

But Mr. Hetson did mind it ; and he didn’t wait 
for aunt Hetty to fish up a figure whereby to illustrate 
its insignificance, before he made a “burst” at us — 
but Mr. Kuncker caught him by the shoulder. 

“ Stop !” said uncle Kit 

“ What ?” inquired Hetson. 

Uncle Kit paused, and then slowly, but most em- 
phatically remarked : 

“ YouHl — tar — them — trowsersP’ — and the whole 
company laughed at uncle Kit’s remark, or Ike Het- 
son’s trowsers — or perhaps, at both. And Ike hung 
down his head, and was evidently “ used up.” 

“ Thar’s but one way to settle this, and to know 
who’s to have Winny — you, or my little union 
’squire.” 

“How’s that.^” asked Hetson. 

“ Andy will tell us all about it !” 

Mr. Hetson turned very pale, for he had great faith 
in the predictions of Andy. 

A general rush — supper being over — to the big 
room, followed this announcement, and uncle Kit 
whistled Andy into the house. The dog-prophet 
rame in slowly and crouchingly, for the fear of his 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


181 


mistress was before his eyes ; and as he got opposite 
Mrs. Kuncker, he emitted a deprecatory whine, and 
with a bound attained his master’s legs. Aunt Hetty, 
however, made no attempt to strike him. 

“ Now, Andy, boy,” said uncle Kit, “ I’ve fetched 
you in here, to tell all about Miss Winny Folsom’s 
fortin ; and you must do it mighty nice and good, for 
she’s a pretty little union gal !” He then set about 
drawing a huge circle, and several smaller circles 
within, and an immense number of radii; and be- 
tween these, rude representations of animals, both 
real and fabulous — while Andy sat by, wagging his 
tail, and looking very intelligent. 

It a-i-nr-t right — it a-i-n-t right! — it’s 
Scriptur’ I” said granny Whipple, shaking her head, 
and dwelling on the italicised words, as she surveyed 
the necromantic operations of old Kit — “ you’re a- 
doin of a w-r-o-n-g thing, Christopher Kuncker 1 I 
you you are !” But Mr. Kuncker only laughed 
at granny Whipple. 

While Mr. Kuncker was engaged in preparing for 
the delivery of the oracles, secundum artem, the con- 
versation in the room turned on the degree of credit 
to be given them. 

“ What do you think ’bout Andy’s fortin tellin. 
Miss Wilkerson.?” asked Mrs. Naron. “JDo you 
believe he raaly knows what’s gwine to come to 
pass ?” 

“ Well, now,” replied Mrs. Wilkerson, I don’t 
know what tu say. It’s a mighty strange thing how 
knowin some brutes is. Thar’s my “ Cherry” cow, 
I raaly b’lievt tlje critter knows when I’m a-gwine to 


182 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


feed her as well as I do my own dear self! That 
minute I picks up my tub to go and tote her the slops, 
she’ll ‘ moo,’ and ‘ moo,’ and ‘ moo.’ And the know- 
inest look out of her eyes you ever seen a critter have 
in all your days 1” 

“ Oh law I” exclaimed several old women. 

“ Miss Kuncker, what do you say to it ?” — queried 
the first speaker — ‘‘ you oughter know, ef any body 
does. He’s your old man’s dog. Does Andy know 
the futur, or not ?” 

“ It’s a mighty hard thing,” said aunt Hetty, ‘‘ a 
mighty hard thing to spend a ’pinion ’pon. Some- 
times I think it’s only Kit’s devilment — and then 
agin, the dog do tell sich quar things, looks like I’m 
^hleeged to think he knows. Last week, I b’lieve it 
was — yes, only last week — Jim Hissup fotch a two 
gallon jug o’ sperrets home, for the old man, from 
town. Well! Kit he ’spicioned Jim o’ drinkin some 
on the way, but Jim denied it mighty bitter. So the 
old man fotch Andy in the house, and Andy give the 
sign that Jim had tuk some! and then Jim right 
away owned to it, and told the old man how much he 
tuk, which was two drinks, as nigh as I can re. 
member !” 

“ Good gracious !” burst from three or four. 

“ I don’t believe nothin about it,” said a withered 
old crone, as she sucked away industriously to pre- 
vent her pipe going out; “I Imow Andy can teU 
what’ll happen. Brutes, in a common way,” she 
continued aphoristically, as she pushed down the to 
bacco in the bowl of her pipe with her fore-finger — 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 1S3 

is more knowiner ’an humans. Did ye ever hear, 
’mongst ye, of the snake at John Green’s?” 

“ Dear Saviour alive!” exclaimed a dozen — what 
about the snake ?” and they all drew long breaths and 
opened their eyes at one another. 

‘‘ I’ll tell ye I John Green’s sister, (the grass wid- 
der, as lives with ’em,) she goes to her battlin bench, 
and what does she see thar, a-quiled up on it, a-sun- 
nin of itself, but a big black snake — ” 

“ Laws a-massey !” ejaculated the entire group. 

“ Jest as I tells ye — thar it was! and it licked out 
its tongue — it did, as sure’s you’re born — right at the 
widder, and looked the venomousest ever was ! Well, 
she run in the house and fainted right away ; and ef 
you’ll b’lieve me, the very next week, her little boy, 
as can jest run about, swallowed a punkin seed, and 
like to a’ died. Ef its uncle hadn’t a’ hit it on the 
back and a’ made the punkin seed fly out, that child 
never would a’ drawd another breath no more’ii — 
shah I you may tell me that snakes and dogs don’t 
know things, but” — and granny Richards didn’t 
finish the sentence, but bobbed her head emphati- 
cally, as much as to say that she couldn’t be hum- 
bugged by any such assertions. 

Every thing was now ready : the rings, the radii, 
the serpents, the bats, the unicorns, and the scorpions, 
all complete ; and Andy was seen seated in the exact 
centre of the whole, upon his hind legs, and looking 
very wise. 

“ Yes !” said uncle Kit, mentally contrasting Andy 
"with Mrs. Kuncker’s favourite; “Bull Wilkerson 
would look devlish well, settin thar on his hind legs ' 


184 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


Bull Wilkerson ! He aint got the power about him /•” 
Then explaining to the company that Andy would 
throw off the cheese without attempting to catch it, if 
he wished to express a negative ; but would toss it 
up and receive it in his jaws, should he intend to 
speak affirmatively — he placed a slice of home-made 
cheese upon the dog’s nose. 

The company stood around, but outside of the 
largest circle, Ike Hetson’s protruding head thrust 
farther towards Andy and old Kit, than any body 
else’s. His face was anxious and cadaverous, but 
he strove to suppress his feelings. 

“ Now Andy,” began uncle Kit ; ‘‘ look at your 
old master. “ Horum-scorum — ef — Mister — Ikey — 
Hetson — is — to — be — married — to — Miss — Winny 
■ — Folsom — say so !” 

Andy threw the cheese on the floor, and thereupon 
several old women screamed ; and the Adam’s apple 
of'Mr. Hetson’s neck became a very large pippin, in 
his attempt to swallow his grief. “ I knowd it !” 
said he, in tones the most dolorous, while the corners 
of his mouth twitched involuntarily and spasmo- 
dically. 

“ Now Andy,” said old Kit, replacing the cheese 
on Andy’s nose : ‘‘ Horum-scorum — ef — my — little — 
blessed — union — ’squire — is — a-gwine — to — get — 
Miss Winny — say so quick ! 

Up went the cheese, and down again it came, into 
Andy’s sepulchral throat ! 

“ Damn the varmint !” ejaculated Mr. Hetson, and 
bursting into the magic circle, he kicked Andy ve- 
hemently in the side. 


N 


4 



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TAKING THE CENSUS. 


187 


“Fair fight! nobody tech! — sick him Andy!” 
shouted uncle Kit, in a rage at the breach of the 
peace committed on the person of his dog. 

Andy dashed gallantly at Mr. Hetson, and seizing 
one of his red-leather straps, tore it on one side from 
the buff cassimere, which, frightened from “ its* pro- 
priety” by the display of canine teeth, retreated, in- 
stanter, to the neighbourhood of Mr. Hetson’s knee ! 
In his struggle to get away from the dog, Ike fell 
backwards over Master Thomas Jefferson Naron ; and 
as his bare and unstrapped leg flew up, nearly at 
right angles with his body — while its fellow, held 
quiet by leather and cassimere, lay rigid along the 
floor — an uproarious shout of laughter at the gro- 
tesque spectacle shook the whole house. 

“Well !” said the poor fellow as he got up on 
his freed leg — the other wouldn’t work — “ the jig’s up 
now — ’taint no use to make a fuss about it — but I 
wouldn’t mind it so bad, ef ’twarn’t that he was to 
git her. Anyhow, I’m off for the Arkansaw ! — good 
by, Winny !” And off he did go, in spite of old Mrs. 
Kuncker’s most strenuous efforts to detain him, and 
convince him that “ Andy didn’t know a thing about 
it, no more’n the man in the moon !” 

As for Winny — the little fool ! — she wept bitterly, 
as if there were no straight-legged men that would 
have been glad to marry her ! 

m * ¥ * * * 

“ ’Squire,” said old Kit, as he lighted us to bed, 
“you’ve not taken many sensis to-night.^” 

“ Only one or two.” 

“ Well, it’s yer uncle Kit’s fault ! He will have 


188 


TAKING THE CENSUS. 


his fun, yah! yah! and Ike Hetson’s e-e-yah-yah! 
Never mind ; come over next week, and yer uncle 
Kit will go all through the settlewien^ wi’ you, and 
down on the river, and to Jim Kent’s, which has got 
a sister so ugly the flies won’t light on her face — wuss 
nor yer aunt Hetty, yah ! yah ! And yer uncle Kit 
will tell you how he and his Jim fooled the man from 
the big-norrod outen Fiddler Bill, as we go ’long ; 
and Becky Kent will tell you ’bout the frolic me and 
her had in the krick, the time she started to mill and 
didn’t git thar, yah, yah, e-e-e-yah !” 

“ Very well, uncle Kit ; sure to come !” 

And ’squire, ef you want one o’ Andy’s puppies, 
let yer uncle Kit know, and he’ll save you a raal 
peart one, eh? Good night! God bless the old 
Ginnul, and damn all nullifiers ! 


DADDY BIGGS’ 


SCRAPE 


AT COCKERELL’S BEND. 


\ 

Cockerell’s Bend is a well-known rendezvous for 
the hunter and fisher of the Tallapoosa ; and a beau- 
tiful place it is. The upper end of the curve is lake- 
like in its stillness, and is very deep ; while a half 
mile below the river spreads itself to double its usual 
width, and brawls among rocks and islets fringed 
with the tall river grass. The part above is resorted 
to by those who fish with the rod ; and that below, by 
seiners. Opposite the deep water, the hills come 
towering down to within twenty yards of the river, 
the narrow intervening strip being low land, covered 
with a tremendous growth of gum, poplar, and white- 
oak. Late in the afternoon of a warm May day, this 
part of the Bend is a most delightful spot. The little 
mountains on the south and west exclude the sun- 
glare completely, and the mere comfort-seeker may 
lay himself flat in the bottom of the old Indian’ canoe 
he finds moored there by a grape vine, and float and 
look at the clouds, and dream — as I have often done 
— with no living thing in sight to disturb his medita- 
tions, except the muskrat on the end of the old pro- 
jecting log, and the matronly summer duck with her 
36 189 


190 


DADDY biggs’ scrape. 


brood of tiny ducklings, swimming, close huddled, in 
the shadow of the huge wateroak, whose overhang- 
ing limbs are covered with a close net- work of mus- 
cadine vines — whereof, (of the vines I mean,) I have 
a story of my friend Captain Suggs, which will be 
related at the proper time. Take care ! ye little downy 
rascals! — especially you, little fellow, with half an 
egg-shell stuck to your back! — true, there are not 
many or large trout in the Tallapoosa: but there are 
some, ; and occasionally one is found of mouth suffi- 
cient to engorge a young duck ! — and almost always 

m a cool quiet shade just like hist! snap! — there 

you go, precisely as I told you ! Now, old lady, quit 
that fussing and fluttering, and take the “young 
’uns” out of the Avay of that other om that isn’t far 
off! Trituration in a trout’s maw must be unplea- 
sant one would think ! 

The “ Bend” took its name from one Bob Cocke- 
rell, who, some years ago, inhabited a log hut on the 
north side, within halloo of the river. Bob, by the 
bye, was an equivocal sort of fellow — 'peo'ple said he 
subsisted on stolen beef! — he challenged them, al- 
ways, to “perduce the years;” and swore that he 
lived honestly, by fishing. Be this as it may, it is 
certain that his daughters, Betsy and Margaret, we»’e 
the naiads of the Bend ; and all the “ old settlers” 
thereabouts have, at one time or another, been in- 
debted to them for a passage across. They were not. 
we may well suppose, as graceful or romantic as the 
Lady of the Lake ; but “ Mag,” with her blue eyes, 
flowing hair, and “ cutty sark” — arranged with special 
reference to the average depth of water in the bottom 


AT Cockerell’s bend. 


191 


of the canoe — was, at least, as pretty. And “ the 
best day” the Scotch woman ever saw,” I’d ven- 
ture the little Tallapoosian could have beaten her, 
easily, in a “ single dash of a mile,” with the paddles! 
They are gone now 1 but wherever they are, bless 
them ! — they never kept one waiting as some male 
ferry-keepers do, but were aye at the “ landing,” and 
in the boat, before the echo of your shout had crossed 
the river ! 

It chanced once, that the writer encamped for a 
day or two on the narrow strip spoken of, with a 
company of the unsophisticated dwellers of the rough 
lands in that region, of whom the principal personage 
was “ Daddy Elias Biggs,” sometimes called “ Dad- 
dy ’Lias,” but more commonly, Daddy Biggs.^^ 
We were on a fishing expedition, and at night hung 
a short line or two from the branches of the trees 
which oversweep the water there, for ‘‘ cat.” One 
night, as we had just done this, and were gathered 
around the fire, a gallon jug passing from hand to 
hand, “ Daddy Biggs” — who was a short, squab man, 
rosy-cheeked, bald, and “ inclining to three-score” — 
remarked, as he extended his hand towards a long, 
gaunt fellow, with a very long nose, and a very black 
beard — 

“ Boys, ain’t you never hearn what a h-11 of a 
scrape I had here, at this very spot, last year ? Billy 
Teal, let me have a suck at that yeathen-war, and 
I’ll tell you all about it.” 

The old man tuk “ a suck,” smacked his lips, and 
Degan his relation : 

‘‘ You all ’member the time, boys, when them Cha 


192 


DADDY biggs’ SCRAPE 


tohospa fellows come here a fishin’ ? D — n ’em, I 
wish they could fish about home, without goin’ 
twenty mile to interrupt other people’s range ! Well, 
they ’camped right here, and right here they seed 
THE Devil !” 

“ Seed the Devil !” exclaimed Billy Teal. 

“ Bid they, in right down airnest, now ?” asked Jim 
Waters, looking around at the dark woods, and in- 
sinuating himself between Abe Ludlow and the fire, 
in evident fright. 

“ They seed the Devil,” repeated Daddy Biggs, 
with emphasis, “ and ketcht him too !” he added ; 
‘‘ but they couldn’t hold him.” 

“Good Gracious!” said Jim Waters, looking 
around again — “ do you think he stays about here?” 
— and Jim got nearer to the fire. 

“ He stays about here some,” replied Daddy Biggs. 
“But Jim, son, get out from the fire! — you’ll set 
your over-halls afire ! — and get me the sperrets. I’lJ 
buss the jug agin, and tell you all about it.” 

Bill Teal had deposited the jug behind a log, some 
ten feet off; but Jim Waters was not the lad to back 
out, if the Devil was about: so he made two despe- 
rate strides and grabbed the “yeathen-war,” and 
then made two more, which brought him, head first, 
jug and all, into the fire. Chunks and sparks flew 
everywhere, as he ploughed through! 

“He’s got you, Jim !” shouted Abe. 

“Pull the boy out!” exclaimed Bill and myself in 
a breath, “or he’ll burn up!” 

“ Some on ye save the jug screamed Daddy 


AT Cockerell’s bend. 193 

Biggs, who was standing horror-stricken at the idea 
of being left without liquor in the woods. 

In a minute both boy and jug were rescued ; the 
former with burnt face and hands, and singed hair ; 
the latter entirely uninjured. 

“Well, well,” chuckled Daddy Biggs, “we come 
outen that fust-rate — the jug aint hurt, nor no liquor 
spilt. But Jim, I’m raaly ’stonished at you! pitchin’ 
in the fire that way, and you a-knowin’ that was 
every drop o’ sperrets we had !” 

“ Oh, but Daddy ’Lias,” interposed Dick McCoy, 
“you must look over that — he seed the Devil 

“Well, well, that ’minds me I was gwine to tell 
you all about that^ h-11 of a scrape I had wi’ them 
Chatohospa fellows, last summer ; so I’ll squeeze the 
jug one time more, and tell you all about it.” 

Throwing his head into an admirable position for 
taking a view of things heavenly. Daddy Biggs in- 
serted the mouth of the jug in his own mouth, when 
for a short space there was a sound which might be 
spelled, ^Huggle-ugle-luggle-4ul-uggle and then 
Daddy Biggs set the jug down by him, and began his 
story once more. 

“Well boys, they was ’camped right here, and had 
sot out their hooks for cat [fish], jist as we’ve done to 
night. Right thar, this side o’ whar Bill’s line hengs, 
some on ’em had tied a most a devil of a hook, from 
that big limb as goes strait out thar. He must a’ had 
a kunnoo to fasten it whar he did, else cooned it on 
the top o’ the limb. Well, it’s alters swimmin’ under 
that limb, but thar’s a big rock, in the shape of a 
sugar-loaf, comes up in six inches o’ the top. Right 


194 


DADDY biggs’ SCRAPE 


round that was whar I’d ketcht the raonstousest, most 
oudaciousest Appeloosas cat, the week before, that 
ever come outen the Tallapoosy ; and they'^d hearri of 
it, and the fellow with the big hook was a fishin for 
hit’s mate. D — n it boys, it makes me mad to think 
how them Chatohospa fellows and the town folks do 
’trude on we roover people, and when I’m aggra- 
wated I allers drinks, so here goes agin.” 

Daddy Biggs threw back his head again — again 
put the jug’s mouth in his own — and again produced 
the sound of ‘‘guggle-uggle-lu-uggle!” and then 
resumed : 

“This big-hook fellow I was tollin’ about, his 
name were Jess Cole, which lives in the bottom, that 
whar Chatohospa falls into the Hoota Locko; and 
aint got more’n half sense at that.” 

“ That’s the fellow used to strike for Vince Kirk- 
land, in the blacksmith’s shop at Dodd’s, afore Vince 
died, aint it?” asked Bill Teal. 

“ That’s him,” said Daddy Biggs, “ and that’s how 
I come to know him, for I seed him thar once, tho’ I 
can’t say he know’d me. Well, he waked up in the 
night, and heerd a most a h-11 of a sloshin’ at the end 
of his line, and says he, ‘Rise boys! I’ve got him! 
Durn my skin ef I hain’t!’ And sure enough there 
was somethin’ a flouncin’ and sloshin’, and makin’ a 
devil of a conbobberation at the eend of the line. 
Jess he sprung up and got a long stick with a hook 
at one eend, and retched out and cotcht the line and 
tried to pull it in ; but the thing on the hook give a 
flirt, and the stick bein’ a leetle too short, which made 
him stoop forard, in he fell ! He scuffled out tho’ 


AT Cockerell’s bend. 


195 


tolloble quick, and ses he, ‘boys, he’s a whaler! — 
cuss my etarnal buttons if he aint the rise of sixty 
pounds! Old Biggs may go to h-11 now with his 
forty-pound cats, he can’t shine no way!’ When I 

heered that boys, I 

“ When you heerd it?” exclaimed all. 

“Yes! me.'” said Biggs laughingly; “didn’t I tell 
you that before? Well, I oughter done it but forgot. 
D — n it, we’ll take a drink on that, any way !” and 
so he did. ^ 

“ So ’twas you instid o’ the Devil, he cotched,” 
observed Jim Waters, apparently much relieved by 
the disclosure. 

“ Jist so; and the way it was, I seed the rascals as 
they were cornin’ here, and knowed what they were 
alter. So when night comes, I slips down the roover 
bank mighty easy and nice, twell I could see the 
camp-fire. But thar was a dog along, and I was 
afraid to ventur up that way. See, I was arter stealin’ 
their fish they’d cotched thro’ the day, which I knowd 
in reason they’d have a string on ’em in the water, at 
the kunnoo landin’, to keep fresh. Well, seein’ of 
the dog I ’eluded I’d ’tack the inimy by water, instid 
o’ land. So with that I took the roover about thirty 
yards above here, and sure enough, finds the string 
of fish jist whar I knowed they’d be ; and then I 
starts to swim down the roover a little ways, and git 
out below, and go to Jerry White’s, and tell him the 
joke. Boys, aint you all gittin’ mighty dry, I am.” 
And Daddy Biggs drank again ! 

“ Well, boys, jist as I got whar that d — d hook 
was, not a thinkin’ o’ nuthin but the fun, the cussec 


196 DADDY biggs’ SCRAPE 

thing ketcht in one thigh of my over-hauls and brought 
me up short. I tried the cussedest ev^r a feller did 
to get loose, and couldn’t. I had no knife, and thar 
I flew round, and pulled first forard and then back- 
ards, and reared and pitched, and made the water 
bile. Fact boys, I was “ hitched to a swingin’ limb,” 
and no mistake. Once or twice I got on the top of 
the sugar-loaf rock, ^ndje-e-est about the time I’d go 
to untie the d — d rope of a line, the blasted rock was 
so slippery off Pd slaunch! — Fact boys ! — And it ag- 
grawated me ; it aggrawated me smartly^ so it did ! 
Ef I’d a’ had liquor then, I’d a’ took some, I was so 
d — d mad ! Well, in this time, that long-legged cuss, 
Jess Cole, wakes up as I tell’d you, and hollers out 
the way I norated. Boys, what do you all say to an- 
other drink ! It makes me so cussed mad every time 
I think ’bout it !” 

Once more Daddy Biggs gazed at the stars ! 

“ Yes, boys, it does make me mad. But its allers 
been so, ever sence I left old Pedee ! Fust I went 
over to the Forky-Deer country — well ! they driv me 
off’ from thar ! Then I struck for the mountain coun- 
try high up in Jurgy, and I finds me a place by the 
side of a nice big krick ; and thinks I, nobody never 
Jdn pester me here^ certain ; for ef they git down in the 
bottom, they’ll be overflowed, and ef they ondertake 
to bild housen on the hill-sides, they’re so durned, 
infernal steep, they’ll have to rope ’m to the trees ! 
Well! what do you think? — hadn’t been thar but 
little better’n two year, afore they was as thick all 
round me, as cuckle-burrs in a colt’s tail, a-huntin 
and a fishin all about m.e — and had bilt lanes — lanes^ 


AT Cockerell’s bend. 


197 


i’ God ! every whar ! So I flings the old ’oman ’cross 
a poney, and comes here — and I’ve bettered the thing 
mightily, to be sure, with this d — d scatter- gun 
crowd, from town and Chatohospa, a-makin the 
woods and mover farly roar from one day’s eend to 
another — aint I ? But, as I was a-sayin about that 
scrape I had wi’ ’em — Soon as Jess said that about 
his cat bein’ bigger’n miwe, I said in my mind, ‘ I’ll 
whip you^ certin !’ Well, they all kept a most a h-11 
of a hollerin’, and every now and then, some on ’em 
would throw a long log o’ wood as they had cut for 
fire, as nigh at me as they could guess, to stunt the 
cat, you see ; but the branches of the tree favoured 
me mightily in keeping ’em off— tho’ they’d hit pretty 
close by me ’casionally, ca-junk! strikin’ eend-fore- 
most, you see. So they kept up a right smart throwin’ 
o’ logs, and me, a right peart dodgin’, for some time ; 
and I tell you, it took raal nice judgment to keep the 
infernal hook outen my meat; it grained the skin 
several times, as ’twas. At last, Jess he climbs into 
the tree and gits on the limb right over me, and ses he, 
‘ boys, I b’lieve hit’s a mud turkle, for I see some- 
thin’ like the form o’ one, right under me.’ Thinks 
I, youHl find it one o’ the snappin* sort, I judge. 
Then another one ses, ‘ thar’s a way to try that, Jess, 
ef you see him ;’ and he hands Jess a gig. ‘ Now,’ 
ses he, ^gig himP ” 

Gig the Devil! ses I, fori was pestered!” 

‘‘Great G-d!” squalled Jess, “hit’s the Devil!” 
and down he tumbled right a top o’ me ! I thought 
I was busted open from one eend to ’tother! Sure 
enough tho’, I warn’t, but only busted loose from the 


198 


DADDY biggs’ SCRAPE 


line. Both on us put for the bank quick, but on ac- 
count of my gittin’ holt of the gig, which ruther 
bothered me, Jess got ashore fust. I was right arter 
him tho’, I tell you, with the gig! When I clum up 
the bank, I found the rest was all kleen gone, and 
thar lay Jess, which had stumped his toe agin’ some- 
thin’, right flat of his face, a-moanin’ dreadful ! 

Oh, I’ve got you now, Jess,” ses I. 

Please Devil !” ses Jess. 

“ Must take you along wi’ me,” ses I, in the 
d — dest most onyeathly voice you ever heered. 

“ The hogs 1 took warn’t marked,'^^ ses Jess, a- shi- 
verin’ all over. 

‘‘ They warn’t yourn,^"^ ses I. 

“ I’ll never do so no more,” ses Jess, shiverin’ 
wuss and wuss, “ ef you’ll let me off this time.” 

“ Can’t do it, Jess ; want you down in Tophet, to 
stnke for Vince Kirkland. I’ve got him thar, a- 
blacksmithin’ of it. He does all my odd jobs, like 
pinetin’ of my tail and sich like ! Can’t let you ofl^^ — 
Pve come a purpose for you 

“ I seed the ix)or devil shudder when I called 
Vince’s name, but he didn’t say no more, so I jobs 
the gig thro’ the hind part of his overhauls and starts 
down to the kunnoo landin’ with him, in a peart trot. 
The %vay he scratched up the dirt as he travelled 
backards on his all-fours, was a perfect sight ! But 
jist as I struck the roover, he got holt of a grub, and 
the gig tore out, and he started Hother way! I never 
seed runnin’ twell then — ’taint no use to try to tell 
you how^ fast he did run ; I couldn’t do it in a w^eek. 
A “ scared wolf,” warn’t nothin’ to him. He run 



“ And thar lay Jess, which had stumped his toe agin somethin’, right flat 
of his face, a-moanin’ dreadful 1” — Page 198. 


9 




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201 


AT Cockerell’s bend. 

faster’n six scared wolves and a yearlin’ deer. Soon 
as he got a start I made for a log whar I seed their 
guns, and behind that I finds the big powder gourd 
they all kept their powder in that they warn’t a-usin’. 
Thinks I, ef you aint all kleen gone, I’ll finish the job 
for you ; so I pitched the gourd — it hilt fully a gallon 
— smack into the fire, and then jumped in the roover 
myself. I hadn’t more’n got properly in before it 
blowed up. Sich a blaze I never seed before. The 
n’ise was some itself, but the blaze covered all crea- 
tion, and retched higher than the trees. It spread 
out to the logs whar the guns was, and fired them off! 
Pop! pop! pop! No wonder them Chatohospa fel- 
lows never come back! Satan, hisself, couldn’t a 
done it no better, ef he had been thar, in the way of 
racket and n’ise !” 

Daddy Biggs now took a long breath, and a longer 
drink. 

“ Boys,” he then added, “ I got them fellers’ fish 
and a two-gallon jug o’ sperrets, and I throwed their 
guns in the roover, besides givin’ ’em the all-gortiest 
scare they ever had ; and they aint been back sence, 
which I hope they never will, for its oudacious the 
way the roover folks is ’posed upon. And now, 
boys, that’s my ‘ scrape ;’ so less take another drink, 
look at the hooks, and then lay down !” 


stereotyped by J. C. D. Christman k Co., 
Philadelphia. 



THE WIDOW IIUGBY’S HUSBAND; 

A NIOHT AT THE UGLY MAN’S, ETC. 

BY CAPTAIN SIMON SUGGS. 



And the next minit the Dutchman and his organ was the wost mixed up pile of rags 
and splinters you ever seen in one mud-hole .” — Page 50. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

T. B. PETERSON 




# 


THE 


^ WIDOW KUGBY’S HUSBAND, 


A NIGHT AT THE UGLY MAN’S, 


OTHEE TALES OF ALABAMA. 

BY JOHNSON J. HOOPER, 

AUTHOR OF “ADVENTURES OF CAPT. SIMON SUGGS.” 


Hnsrabfnfls from ©rffifnal Besfflns l>2 JSllfott 


PHILADELPHIA: 

T. B. PE TEES ON, 

102 CHESTNUT STREET. 


Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1851, by 

A. HART, 


in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the 
Eastern District of Pennsylvania. ' 


/ 



E. E. iMEAfiS, STEKEOTYPEK. 


T. K. & P. G. COLLINS, PKINTERS, 


A. B. MEEK, Esq., 


THESE SKETCHES 
ARE RESPECTFULLT llTSCRIBED, 
BY HIS FRIEND, 


The Author, 


, LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


A RIDE WITH OLD KIT KUNCKER Frontispiece. 

« and the next thing, somethin' riz in the aiVy like a smdU cloud of calico 
and dry cornstalks /” 

A NIGHT AT THE UGLY MAN’S Title page. 

<< and with that, I fetched the monkey a sling that sent him a w hirlin’ 
about sixty yards over a brick wall.” 

CAPTAIN SUGGS, BETSY, AN* SHERIFF ELLIS . . , . Page 62 

** The canoe shot ten feet out from the tree, and the sherifT was left dan> 
gling among the vines 1” 

THE FAIR OFFENDER AND THE LAWYER T 84 

“I suppose its some badness they’ve sworn agin me.” 

CAPTAIN M’SPADDEN, THE IRISH GENTLEMAN IN PURSHUTE OF 


A SCHULE 112 

THE RES GEST.® A POOR JOKE , . 144 


“ I jist wanted to know what’s the name of that harry thing in your hand, 
that I thought you said was a res jesty!* 


CONTENTS. 


THE WIDOW RUGBY’S HUSBAND 





PAQH 

. 17 

CAPT. STICK AND TONEY . 

. 


. 

• 


32 

DICK M’COY’S SKETCHES OP HIS NEIGHBOURS 

• 

. 

35 

A NIGHT AT THE UGLY MAN’S . 

. 


• 

• 


41 

THE MUSCADINE STORY 


• 


• 

0 

52 

THE BAILIFP THAT " STUCK TO HIS OATH’* 

• 

• 


64 

JIM BELL’S REVENGE . 


# 


• 

. 

71 

MRS. JOHNSON’S POST OFFICE CASE 

. 


• 

• 


80 

A FAIR OFFENDER 


• 


9 

. 

83 

A RIDE WITH OLD KIT KUNCKER 

• 


• 

• 


87 

JIM WILKINS AND THE EDITORS . 


• 


• 

. 

97 

COL. HAWKINS AND THE COURT 

. 


• 

• 


102 

THE ERASrVE SOAP MAN 


• 


• 

. 

109 

CAPTAIN M’SPADDEN, THE IRISH 

GENTLEMAN 

IN 


PURSHUTE OF A SCHULE 


• 


. 

. 

112 

THE ELEPHANT IN LAFAYETTE . 

. 


. 

. 


121 

THE DIRTIKEN .... 






125 


AN INVOLUNTARY MEMBER OP THE TEMPERANCE 

SOCIETY 133 

137 


A LEGISLATIVE ELECTION 


(T) 


viii 


CONTENTS, 


PAGE 

AN ALLIGATOR STORY 140 

THE RES GEST^ A POOR JOKE .... 142 

OUR GRANNY .146 

THE GOOD MUGGINS 151 

JEMMY OWEN ON THE SENATORIAL ELECTION ^ . 166 

MONTGOMERY CHARACTERS . . . . 160 


THE WIDOW RUGBY’S HUSBAND ; 


A STORY OF « SUGGS.” 

Some ten or twelve years agone, one Sumeral Den- 
nis kept the Union Hotel,” at the seat of justice of 
the county of Tallapoosa. The house took its name 
from the complexion of the politics of its proprietor; 
he being a true-hearted Union man, and opposed — as I 
trust all my readers are — at all points, to the damnable 
heresy of nullification. In consequence of the candid 
exposition of his political sentiments upon his sign- 
board, mine host of the Union was liberally patronized 
by those who coincided with him in his views. In 
those days, party spirit was, in that particular locality, 
exceedingly bitter and proscriptive ; and had SumeraPs 
chickens been less tender, his eggs less impeachable, 
his coffee more sloppy, the ‘‘ Union Hotel” would still 
have lost no guest — its keeper no dimes. But, as Den- 
nis was wont to remark, “ the party relied on his ho- 
nour ; and as an honest man — but more especially as 
an honest Union man — he was bound to give them the 
value of their money.” Glorious fellow, was Sumeral ! 
Capital landlady, was his good wife, in all the plenitude 
of her embonpoint! Well-behaved children, too, were 
SumeraPs — from the shaggy and red-headed represent 


18 THE WIDOW KUGBY’S HUSBAND. 

ative of paternal, peculiarities, down to little Solomon 
of the sable locks, whose favour” puzzled the neigh- 
bours, and set at defiance all known physiological prin- 
ciples. Good people, all, were the Dennises ! May a 
hungry man never fall among worse ! 

Among the political friends who had for some years 
bestowed their patronage, semi-annually, during Court 
week, upon the proprietor of the Union,” was Captain 
Simon Suggs, whose deeds of valour and of strategy 
are not unknown to the public. The captain had put 
up” with our friend Sumeral, time and again — had 
puffed the «« Union,” both « before the face and behind 
the back” of its owner, until it seemed a miniature of 
the microcosm that bears the name of Astor — and, in 
short, was so generally useful, accommodating, and 
polite, that nothing short of long-continued and oft- 
repeated failures to settle his bills, could have induced 
Sumeral to consider Suggs in other light than as the 
best friend the ‘‘Union” or any other house ever had. 
But alas! Captain Suggs had, from one occasion to 
another, upon excuses the most plausible, and with 
protestations of regret the most profound, invariably left 
the fat larder and warm beds of the Union without leav- 
ing behind the slightest pecuniary remuneration with 
Sumeral. For a long time the patient innkeeper bore 
the imposition with a patience that indicated some hope 
of eventual payment. But year in and year out, and 
the money did not come. Mrs. Dennis at length spoke 
out, and argued the necessity of a tavern-keeper’s col- 
lecting his dues, if he was disposed to do justice to 
himself and family. 

“ Suggs is a nice man in his talk,” she said. “ No- 


THE WIDOW KUGBY’S HUSBAND. 19 

body can fault him, as far as that’s . concerned ; but 
smooth talk never paid for flour and bacon and so 
she recommended to her leaner half that the ^^next 
summary measures should be adopted to secure 
the amount in which the captain was indebted to the 
“ Union Hotel.” 

Sumeral determined that his wife’s advice should be 
strictly followed ; for he had seen, time and again, that 
her suggestions had been the salvation of the establish- 
ment. 

Hadn’t she kept him from pitchin’ John Seagrooves, 
neck and heels, out of the window”, for sayin’ that nul- 
lification warnH treason, and John C. Calhoun warnH 
as bad as Benedict Arnold ! And hadn’t John been a 
good payin’ customer ever since That was what he 
wanted to know!” 

The next session of the Circuit Court, after this pru- 
dent conclusion had been arrived at in Dennis’s mind 
— the Circuit Court, with all its attractions of criminal 
trials, poker-playing lawyers, political caucuses and 
possible monkey-shows — found Captain Suggs snugly 
housed at the “ Union.” Time passed on swiftly for a 
week. The judge was a hearty, liquor-loving fellow, 
and lent the captain ten dollars, on sight.” The We- 
tumpka and Montgomery lawyers bled freely. In short 
everything went bravely on for the captain, until a man 
with small-pox pits and a faro-box came along. The 
captain yielded to the temptation — yielded, with a pre- 
sentiment on his mind that he should be slain.” The 
<t tiger” was triumphant, and Suggs was left without a 
dollar! 

As if to give intensity to his distress, on the morn- 


20 


THE WIDOW rugby’s HUSBAND. 


ing after his losses at the faro bank, the friendly Clerk 
of the Court hinted to Suggs, that the Grand Jury had 
found an indictment against him for gaming. Here 
was a dilemma ! Not only out of funds, but obliged to 
decamp, before the adjournment of Court ! — obliged to 
lose all opportunity of redeeming his “ fallen fortunes,” 
by further plucking the greenhorns in attendance. 

« This here,” said Simon, is h — 1 ! h — 1 ! a mile 
and a quarter square, and fenced in all round ! What’s 
a reasonable man to do? Ain’t I been workin’ and 
strivin’ all for the best? Ain’t I done my duty ? Cuss 
that mahogany box ? I wish the man that started it 
had had his head sawed off with a cross-cut, just afore 
he thought on’t ! Now thar’s sense in short cards. All’s 
fair, and cheat and cheat alike is the order ; and the 
longest pole knocks down the persimmon ! But whar’s 
the reason in one of your d — d boxes, full of springs 
and the like, and the better no advantages, except now 
and then when he kin kick up a squabble, and the 
dealer'^ s qfeard of him! 

« I’m for doin’ things on the squar. What’s a man 
without his honour ? Ef natur give me a gift to beat a 
feller at ‘ old sledge’ and the like, it’s all right ! But 
whar’s the justice in a thing like farrer, that ain’t got 
but one side ! It’s strange what a honin’ I have for the 
cussed thing ! No matter how I make an honest rise, 
I’m sure to « buck it off’ at farrer. As my wife says, 
farrer'^s my hesettin* sin. It’s a weakness — a soft spot 
— it’s — a — a — let me see ! — it’s a way I’ve got of a 
runnin’ agin Providence! But hello! here’s Dennis.” 

When the inn-keeper walked up. Captain Suggs 
remarked to him, that there was a “little paper out. 


THE WIDOW rugby’s HUSBAND. 


21 


signed by Tom Garrett, in his official capacity^ that was 
calculated to hurt feelins,” if he remained in towm ; 
and so he desired that his horse might be saddled and 
brought out. 

Sumeral replied to this by presenting to the captain 
a slip of paper containing entries of many charges 
against Suggs, and in favour of the Union Hotel. 

All right,” said Suggs ; I’ll be over in a couple 
of weeks, and settle.” 

Can’t wait ; want money to buy provisions ; ac- 
count been standing two years ; thirty-one dollars and 
fifty cents is money, these days,” said Dennis, with 
unusual firmness. 

«« Blast your ugly face,” vociferated Suggs, “ Pll 
give you my note ! that’s enough amongst gentlemen, I 
suppose.” 

«« Hardly,” returned the inn-keeper, “hardly: we 
want the cash ; your note ain’t worth the trouble of 
writin’ it.” 

“D — nyou!” roared Suggs; “d — n you for a bis- 
cuit-headed nullifier ! I’ll give you a mortgage on the 
best half section of land in the county; south half of 
13 , 21 , 29 !” 

“ Captain Suggs,” said Dennis, drawing off his coat, 
« you’ve called me a nullifier, and that^s what I won^f 
stand from no man I Strip, and I’ll whip as much dog 
out of you as ’ll make a full pack of hounds! You 
swindlin’ robber!” 

This hostile demonstration alarmed the captain, and 
he set in to soothe his angry landlord. 

“ Sum, old fel !” he said, in his most honeyed tones : 
“Sum, old fel! be easy. I’m not a fightin’ man” — 


22 


THE WIDOW rugby’s HUSBAND. 


and here Suggs drew himself up with dignity ; I’m 
not a fightin’ man, except in the cause of my country ! 
Thar I’m alien found! Come old fellow — do you 
reckon ef you ’d been a nullifier, Pd ever been ketched 
at your house ! No, no ! You ainH no part of a nulli- 
fier, but you are reether hard down on your Union 
friends that allers puts up with you. Say, won’t you 
take that mortgage — the land’s richly worth $1,000 — 
and let me have old Bill ?” 

The heart of Dennis was melted at the appeal thus 
made. It was to his good fellowship and his party feel- 
ings. So, putting on his coat, he remarked, that he 
« rather thought he would take the mortgage. How- 
ever,” he added, seeing Mrs. Dennis standing at the 
door of the tavern watching his proceedings, he would 
see his wife about it.” 

The captain and Dennis approached the landlady of 
the Union, and made known the state of the case. 

« You see, cousin Betsey” — Suggs always cousined 
any lady whom he wished to cozen — «« you see, cousin 
Betsy, the fact is, I’m down, just now, in the way of 
money, and you and Sumeral bein’ afraid I’ll run away 

and never come back ” 

Taint that Pm afraid of,” said Mrs. Dennis. 

“ What then ?” asked Suggs. 

« Of your cornin’ back, eatin’ us out o’ house and 
home, and nexer payin'* nothin* P 

Well,” said the Captain, slightly confused at the 
lady’s directness ; « well, seein’ that’s the w^ay the mule 
kicks, as I was sayin’, I proposed to Sum here, as long 
as him and you distrusts an old Union friend that’s stuck 
by your house like a tick, even when the red-mouthed 


THE WIDOW rugby’s HUSBAND. 23 

nullifiers swore you was feedin’ us soap-tails on hall-heef 
and blue collards — I say, as long as that’s the case, I 
propose to give you a mortgage on the south half of 21, 
13, 29. It’s the best half section in the county, and it’s 
worth forty times the amount of your bill.” 

« It looks like that ought to do,” said Sumeral, who 
was grateful to the captain for defending his house 
against the slanders of the nullifiers; << and seein’ that 
Suggs has always patronized the Union and voted the 
whole ticket ” 

Never split in my life,” dropped in Suggs, with 
emphasis. 

«<I,” continued Dennis, « am for takin the mortgage 
and lettin’ him take old Bill and go ; for I know it 
would be a satisfaction to the nullifiers to have him put 
in jail.” 

Yes,” quoth the captain, sighing, ‘‘ I’m about to be 
tuk up and made a martyr of, on account of the Union, 
but I’ll die true to my prin5^j9ples, d — d if I don’t.” 

« They shan^t take you,” said Dennis, his long lank 
form stiffening with energy as he spoke ; « as long as 
they put it on thaUhooV^ d — d ef they shall ! Give us 
the mortgage and slope !” 

“Thar’s a true-hearted Union man,” exclaimed 
Suggs, “ that’s not got a drop of pizen of treason in his 
veins !” 

“ You ain’t got no rights to that land . . I jist know 
it — or you wouldn’t want to mortgage it for a tavern 
bill,” shouted Mrs. Dennis ; “ and I tell you and Sume- 
ral hoth^ that old Bill don’t go out of that stable till the 
money’s paid — mind I say money — into my hand and 


24 THE WIDOW KUGBY’S HUSBAND. 

here the good lady turned off and called Bob, the stable 
boy, to bring her the stable key. 

The Captain and Sumeral looked at each other like 
two chidden school-boys. It was clear that no terms 
short of payment in money would satisfy Mrs. Dennis. 
Suggs saw that Dennis had become interested in his 
behalf ; so, acting upon the idea, he suggested : 

« Dennis, suppose you loan me the money 
Egad, Suggs, Pve been thinking of that ; but as I 
have only a fifty dollar bill, and my wife’s key bein’ 
turned on that, there’s no chance. D — n it, I’m sorry 
for you.” 

‘‘Well the Lord’ll purvide,” said Suggs. 

As Captain Suggs could not get away that day, evi- 
dently, he arranged, through his friend Sumeral, with 
the Clerk not to issue a capias until the next afternoon. 
Having done this, he cast around for some way of rais- 
ing the wind ; but the fates were against him ; and at 
eleven o’clock that night, he went to bed in a fit of the 
blues that three pints of whiskey had failed to dissipate. 

An hour or two after the Captain had got between 
his sheets, and after every one else was asleep, he heard 
some one walk unsteadily, but still softly, up stairs. 
An occasional hiccup told that it was some fellow 
drunk ; and this was confirmed by a heavy fall which 
the unfortunate took as soon as, leaving the railing, he 
attempted to travel suis pedibus. 

“ Oh, good Lord !” groaned the fallen man ; “ who’d 
a-thought it! Me, John P. Pullum, drunk and failin’ 
down ! I never was so before. The world’s a-turnin’ 
over — and — over! Oh, Lord! — Charley Stone got me 


THE WIDOW KUGBY’S HUSBAND. 25 

into it! What will Sally say ef she hears it — oh, 
Lord !” 

« That thar feller,” said the Captain to himself, “ is 
the victim of vice ! I wonder ef he’s got any money ?” 
and the Captain continued his soliloquy inaudibly. 

Poor Mr. Pullum, after much tumbling about and 
sundry repetitions of his fall, at length contrived to get 
into bed, in a room adjoining that occupied by the Cap- 
tain, and only separated from it by a thin partition. 
The sickening effects of his debauch increased, and the 
dreadful nausea was likely to cause him to make both 
a « clean breast” and a clean stomach. 

‘^I’m very — very — oh. Lord! — drunk! Oh, me, is 
this John P. Pullum that — good Heavens ! I’ll faint — 
married Sally Rugby ! — oh ! oh !” 

Here the poor fellow got out of bed, and, poking his 
head through a vacant square, in the window-sash, 
began his ejaculations of supper and of grief. 

Ah! I’m so weak! — wouldn’t have Sally — aw- — 
owh — wha — oh. Lord ! — to hear of it for a hundred dol- 
lars. She said — it’s cornin’ agin — awh — ogh — who — 
o — o-gracious Lord, how sick! — she said when she 
agreed for me to sell the cotton. I’d be certain — oh. 
Lord, I believe I’ll die !” 

The inebriate fell back on his bed, almost fainting, 
and Captain Suggs thought he’d try an experiment. 

Disguising his voice, with his mouth close to the 
partition, he said : 

“You’re a liar! you didn’t marry Widow Rugby; 
you’re some d — d thief tryin’ to pass off for something !” 

“ Who am I then, if I ain’t John P. Pullum that mar- 
ried the widow, Sally Rugby, Tom Rugby’s widow, old 


26 


THE WIDOW rugby’s HUSBAND. 


Bill Stearns’s only daughter ? Oh, Lord, if it ain’t me, 
who is it ? Where’s Charley Stone — can’t he tell if it’s 
John P. Puljum?” 

No, it ain’t you, you lyin’ swindler — you ain’t got 
a dollar in the world — and never married no rich 
widow,” said Suggs, still disguising his voice. 

did — ril be d — d ef I didn’t — I know it now: 
Sally Rugby with the red head — all of the boys said I 
married her for her money, but it’s a — oh. Lord, Fm 
sick again — augh !” 

Mr. Pullum continued his maudlin talk, half asleep, 
half awake, for some time ; and all the while Captain 
Suggs was analyzing the man — conjecturing his pre- 
cise circumstances — his family relations — the probable 
state of his purse, and the like. 

« It’s a plain case,” he mused, «« that this feller mar- 
ried a red-headed widow for her money — no man ever 
married sich for anything else. It’s plain agin, she’s 
got the property settled upon her, or fixed some way, 
for he talked about her ‘ agreein’ for him to sell the cot- 
ton. I’ll bet that he’s the new feller that’s dropped in 
down thar by Tallassee, that Charley Stone used to 
know. And I’ll bet he’s been down to Wetumpky to 
sell the cotton — got on a bust thar — and now’s on an- 
other here. — He’s afraid of his wife, too ; leastways, his 
voice trimbled like it, when he called her red-headed, 
Pullum ! Pullum ! Pull-um !” Here Suggs studied — 
«« That’s surely a Talbot county name — I’ll ventur’ on 
it, any how.” 

Having reached a conclusion, the Captain turned 
o^'er in bed, and composed himself to sleep. 

At nine o’clock the next morning, the bar-room of 


THE WIDOW rugby’s HUSBAND. 27 

the Union contained only Dennis and our friend the 
Captain. Breakfast was over, and the most of the tem- 
porary occupants of the tavern were on the public 
square. Captain Suggs was watching for Mr. Pullum, 
who had not yet come down to breakfast. 

At length an uncertain step was Heard on the stair- 
way, and a young man, whose face showed indisputable 
evidence of a frolic on the previous night, descended. 
His eyes were bloodshot, and his expression was a 
mingled one of shame and fear. 

Captain Suggs walked up to him, as he entered the 
bar-room, gazed at his face earnestly, and, slowly plac- 
ing his hand on his shoulder, as slowly, and with a stern 
expression, said : 

Your — name — is — Pullum !” 

“ I know it is,” said the young man. 

Come this way, then,” said Suggs, pulling his vic- 
tim out into the street, and still gazing at him with the 
look of a stern but affectionate parent. Turning to 
Dennis, as they went out, he said : Have a cup of cof- 
fee ready for this young man in fifteen minutes, and his 
horse by the time he’s done drinking it!” 

Mr. Pullum looked confounded, but said nothing, and 
he and the Captain walked over to a vacant blacksmith 
shop, across the street, where they could be free from 
observation. 

«« You’re from Wetumpky last,” remarked Suggs, 
with severity, and as if his words charged a crime. 

« What if I am ?” replied Pullum, with an effort to 
appear bold. 

“ What’s cotton worth ?” asked the Captain, with an 
almost imperceptible wink. 

218 


28 THE WIDOW rugby’s HUSBAND. 

Pullum turned white, and stammered out: 

“ Seven or eight cents.” 

‘‘ Which will you tell your wife you sold yours — h^rs 
- — for 

John P. turned blue in the face. 

“ What do you know about my wife he asked. 

‘‘ Never mind about that — was you in the habit of 
gettin’ drunk before you left Talbot county, Georgy 

«« I never lived in Talbot ; I was born and raised in 
Harris,” said Pullum, with something like triumph. 

“ Close to the line though,” rejoined Suggs, confi- 
dently, relying on the fact that there was a large family 
of Pullums in Talbot; “ most of your connexions lived 
in Talbot.” 

“ Well, what of all that.^” asked Pullum, with impa- 
tience : “ what is it to you whar I come from, or whar 
my connexion lived 

“ Never mind — I’ll show you — no man that married 
Billy Stearns’s daughter can carry on the way you^ve 
been doin^y without my interferin’ for the int’rust of the 
family !” 

Suggs said this with an earnestness, a sternness, that 
completely vanquished Pullum. He tremulously asked ; 

“ How did you know that I married Stearns’s daugh- 
ter.?” 

« That’s a fact ’most anybody could a known that 
was intimate with the family in old times. You’d bet- 
ter ask how I knowed that you tuk your wife^s cotton to 
Wetumpky — sold it — got on a spree — after Sally give 
you a caution too — and then come by here — got on 
another spree. What do you reckon Sally will say to 
you when you git home .?” 


THE WIDOW rugby’s HUSBAND. 29 

She won’t know it,” replied Pullum, « unless some- 
body tells her.” 

Somebody will tell her,” said Suggs ; «« Pm going 
home with you as soon as you’ve had breakfast. My 
poor Sally Rugby shall not be trampled on in this way. 
I’ve only got to borrow fifty dollars from some of the 
boys to make out a couple of thousand I need to make 
the last payment on my land. So go over and eat your 
breakfast, quick.” 

“For God’s sake, sir, don’t tell Sally about it; you 
don’t know how unreasonable she is.” 

Pullum was the incarnation of misery. 

“The devil I don’t! She bit this piece out of my 
face” — here Suggs pointed to a scar on his cheek — 
“ when I had her on my lap, a little girl only five years 
old. She was always game.” 

Pullum grew more nervous at this reference to his 
wife’s mettle. 

“ My dear sir, I don’t even know your name — ” 

‘ Suggs, sir, Capt. Simon Suggs.” 

“ Well, my dear Captain, ef you’ll jist let me off this 
time. I’ll lend you the fifty dollars.” 

“ YouUl — lend — me — the — fifty — dollars! Who 

asked you for your money — or rather Sallfs money ?” 

“ I only thought,” replied the humble husband of 
Sally, “that it might be an accommodation. I meant 
no harm ; I know Sally wouldn’t mind my lending it to 
an old friend of the family.” 

“ Well,” said Suggs, and here he mused, shutting 
his eyes, biting his lips, and talking very slowly, “ ef 1 
knowed you would do better.” 

“I’ll swear I will,” said Pullum. 


30 THE WIDOW rugby’s HUSBAND. 

‘cNo swearin’, sir!” roared Suggs, with a dreadful 
frown ; no swearin’ in my presence !” 

«No, sir, I won’t any more.” 

« Ef,” continued the Captain, «« I knowed you’d do 
better — go right home *^ — (the Captain didn’t wish Pul- 
lum to stay where his stock of information might be 
increased) — and treat Sally like a wife all the rest of 
your days, I might, may be, borrow the fifty, (seein’ it’s 
Sally’s, any way,) and let you off this time.” 

‘‘ Ef you will. Captain Suggs, I’ll never forget you — 
I’ll think of you all the days of my life.” 

“I ginnally makes my mark, so that I’m hard to for- 
get,” said the Captain, truthfully. « Well, turn me 
over a fifty for a couple of months, and go home.” 

Mr. Pullum handed the money to Suggs, who seemed 
to receive it reluctantly. He twisted the bill in his 
fingers, and remarked : 

I reckon I’d better not take this money — you won’t 
go home, and do as you said.” 

“Yes, I will,” said Pullum; “yonder’s my horse at 
the door — I’ll start this minute.” 

The Captain and Pullum returned to the tavern, 
where the latter swallowed his coffee and paid his bill. 

As the young man mounted his horse, Suggs took 
him affectionately by the hand — 

“John,” said he, “ go home, give my love to cousin 
Sally, and kiss her for me. Try and do better, John, 
for the futur’ ; and if you have any children, John, bring 
’em up in the way of the Lord. Good by I” 

Captain Suggs now paid his bill, and had a balance 
on hand. He immediately bestrode his faithful “ Bill,” 
musing thus as he moved homeward : 


THE WIDOW rugby’s HUSBAND. 31 

“ Every day I git more insight into scriptur’. It used 
to be I couldn’t understand the manna in the wilder- 
ness, and the ravens feedin’ Elishy ; now, it’s clear to 
my eyes. Trust in Providence — that’s the lick! Here 
w^as I in the wilderness, sorely oppressed, and mighty 
nigh despar. Pullum come to me, like a ‘ raven,’ in 
my distress — and a fat one, at that! Well, as I’ve 
alters said. Honesty and Providence will never fail to 
fetch a man out ! Jist give me that for a hand^ and I’ll 
‘ stand’ agin all creation !” 


CAPT. STICK AND TONEY. 


Old Capt. Stick was a remarkably precise old gen- 
tleman, and a conscientiously just man. He was, too, 
very methodical in his habits, one of which was to 
keep an account in writing of the conduct of his ser- 
vants, from day to day. It was a sort of account-cur- 
rent, and "he settled by it every Saturday afternoon. 
No one dreaded these hebdomadal balancings, more 
than Toney, the boy of all- work, for the Captain was 
generally obliged to write a receipt, for a considerable 
amount, across his shoulders. 

One settling afternoon, the Captain, accompanied by 
Tony, was seen “ toddling” down to the old stable, 
with his little account book in one hand, and a small 
rope in the other. After they had reached the Bar of 
Justice,” and Tony had been properly “ strung up,” 
the Captain proceeded to state his accounts as follows : 

« Tony, Dr. 

Sabbath, to not half blacking my boots, &c., five 
stripes. 

Tuesday, to staying four hours at mill longer than 
necessary, ten stripes. 

Wednesday, to not locking the hall door at night, 
five stripes. 


( 32 ) 


CAPT. STICK AND TONEY. 33 

Friday, to letting the horse go without water, five 
stripes. 

Total, twenty-five stripes. 

Tony^ Cr. 

Monday, by first-rate day’s work in the garden, ten 
stripes. 

Balance due, fifteen stripes.” 

The balance being thus struck, the Captain drew his 
cow-hide and remarked — “Now, Tony, you black 
scamp, what say you, you lazy villain, why I shouldn’t 
give you fifteen lashes across your back, as hard as I 
can draw 

“ Stop, old Mass,” said Tony ; “ dar’s de work in de 
garden, sir — dat ought to tek off some.” 

“You black dog,” said the Captain, “ hav’nt I given 
you the proper credit of ten stripes, for that? Come, 
come !” 

“ Please old massa,” said Tony, rolling his eyes 
about in agony of fright — “ dar’s — you forgot — dar’s 
de scourin’ ob de floor — old missus say e nebber been 
scour as good before.” 

“ Soho, you saucy rascal,” quoth Captain Stick ; 
“ you’re bringing in more offsets, are you? Well now, 
there !” — here the Captain made an entry upon his book 
— “ you have a credit of five stripes, and the balance 
must be paid.” 

“ Gor a mity, massa, don’t hit yet — dar’s sumpen else 
— oh. Lord! please don’t — yes, sir — got um now — 
ketchin’ de white boy and fetchin’ um to ole missus, 
what trow rock at de young duck.”’ 

“That’s a fact,” said the Captain — “the outrageous 
young vagabond — that’s .a fact, and I’ll give you credit 


34 


CAPT. STICK AND TONEY. 


of ten stnpes for it — I wish you had brought him to Tne 
— now we’ll settle the balance.” 

Bress de Lord, ole massa,” said Tony, “ dat^s ally 
Tony grinned extravagantly. 

The Captain adjusted his tortoise-shell spectacles 
with great exactness, held the book close to his eyes ; 
and ascertained that the fact was as stated by Tony. 
He was not a little irritated : 

You swear off the account, you infernal rascal — 
you swear off the account, do you.^” 

“ All de credit is fair, old massa,” answered Tony. 

«« Yes, but” — said the disappointed Captain — “ but — 
but” — still the Captain was sorely puzzled how to give 
Tony a few licks any how — “ but” — an idea popped 
into his head — ^^wliere'^s my costs — you incorrigible, 
abominable scoundrel You want to swindle me, do 
you, out of my costs, you black, deceitful rascal.^” 
And,” added Capt. Stick, chuckling as well at his 
own ingenuity as the perfect justice of the sentence ; 
“I enter judgment against you for costs — ten stripes” 
— and forthwith administered the stripes and satisfied 
the judgment. 

“Ki nigger!” said Tony; “ki nigger! what dis 
judgmen for coss, ole massa talk ’bout. Done git off 
’bout not blackin’ de boot — git off ’bout stayin’ long 
time at de mill — and ebry ting else — but dis judgmen 
for coss gim me de debbil — Bress God, nigger must 
keep out ob de ole stable, or I’ll tell you what, dat 
judgmen^ for coss make e back feel mighty warm, for 
true !” 


DICK M’COY’S SKETCHES OF HIS NEIGH- 
BOUHS. 


Last summer, J determined to visit the battle-ground 
of the Horse-Shoe^ to see if any vestiges remained of 
Old Hickory^ s great fight with the Indians of the Tal- 
lapoosa. Fond of all sorts of aquatic diversion, I 
concluded to take the river four or five miles above, 
and descend to the « Shoe^"^ and I therefore employed 
an old crony of mine, Dick M’Coy, to take me down 
in a canoe. Dick lives on the bank, and has all the 
qualifications of an otter, for river explorations. 

For some miles above the battle-ground, the river is 
a succession of shallows, broken every mile or two by 
lovely patches of smooth, still water, generally be- 
decked with a green islet or two, around which the 
trout love to play. The banks are generally large, 
irregular hills, that look as if they were struggling to 
pitch themselves, with their huge pines, into the 
stream ; but, once in a while, you find a level strip of 
alluvial in cultivation, or a beautiful and fertile decli- 
vity, shaded by magnificent poplars, beech-trees, and 
walnut. Now and then you may see the cabin of a 
squatter, stuck to the side of a hill, like a discharged 
tobacco-quid against a wall ; but, generally, the Talla- 


36 


DICK M’COY’S sketches 


poosa retains the wild, pristine features of the days 
when the Creek hunted on its banks, or disported him- 
self upon its waters. A little way out from the river, 
on either side, among the ‘‘ hollows” formed by little 
creeks and smaller streams, live a people, half-agricul- 
tural, half-piscatorial — a sinewy, yellow-headed, whis- 
key-loving set. Those south of the river, are the 
inhabitants of ’Possum-Trot,” while those on the 
north are the citizens of Turpentine.” Dick M’Coy 
is a ’Possum-Trotter, a fishing fellow, fishy in his sto- 
ries, but always au fait in regard to matters of settle- 
ment gossip. 

Seated on a clap-board, a little aft of the centre of 
the boat, and facing Dick, I was amused for several 
hours with his conversation, as we threaded the intri- 
cate passages of the shoals, now w^hizzing by and 
barely touching an ugly rock, now spinning round in 
a little whirlpool, like a tee-totum. The skill of my 
Palinurus, however, seemed equal to any emergency ; 
and we alternately twisted and tumbled along, at the 
rate of two miles and a half an hour. 

As we came into a small, deep sheet of water, Dick 
pointed with his paddle to a smoke issuing from among 
the trees, on the « Turpentine” side of the river, and 
remarked, « Thar’s whar our lazy man lives — Seaborn 
Brown.” Ah, is he lazy much V* « Powerful !” 

As how ?” « Onct he went out huntin’, and he w^as 

so lazy he ’eluded he wwldn’t. So he laid down in 
the sand, close to the aidge of the water. It come on 
to rain like the devil, and ’I seen him from t’other side, 
tho’t he was asleep, and hollered to him — ses I, it’s 
rainin’ like wrath, Seab, and why don’t you git up ^ Ses 


OF HIS NEIGHBOURS. 


37 


he, hollerin’ back — « I’m wet any how, and thar’s 
no use.’ After a little the river begun to rise about five 
foot an hour ; and I hollers to him agin — ses I, « Seaborn, 
the river’s a-risin’ on to your gun ; the but’s half way 
in the water, now !’ Ses he, hollerin’ back, « The water 
ain’t gwine to hurt the wood part.’ I waited a few 
minutes, and sung out — « Seaborn, you’re half under 
water yourself, and your gun-lock is in the river !’ Ses 
he — ‘I never ketches cold, and thar’s no load in the 
gun, and besides, she needs a washin’ out.’ And, 
’Squire,” continued Dick, « the last I seen of him that 
day, he tuck a flask out of his pocket, as he lay^ drinkt, 
kecht some water in the flask, and drinkt again, as he 
lay; and then throw* d his face hack^ this way, like, to 
keep the river out of his mouth and nose 

Amused at Dick’s anecdote of his lazy neighbour, I 
solicited some information about the occupant of a 
cabin nearly in the water, on the ’Possum Trot side. 
At the very door of the dwelling commenced a fish-trap 
dam ; and on the trap stood a stalwart fellow in a red 
flannel shirt, and pantaloons that were merely breeches 
— the legs being torn off entirely. << Who’s that?” I 
asked. « Wait till we pass him, and I’ll tell you.” 
We tumbled onward a few yards. That’s Jim Ed- 
’ards; he loves cat fish^ some! Well, he does! Don’t 
do nothin’ but ketch ’em. Some of the boys says he’s 
got slimy all over, like unto a cat — don’t know about 
that ; all I know is, we ketcht one in the seine, that 
weighed over forty pounds. Thar was a moccasin tuk 
out of it longer than my arm. And nobody wouldn’t 
have it, then, but Jim. As we was goin’ home, Jim a 
totin’ the fish, ses I — Jim, you ain’t a gwine to eat that 


38 


DICK m’COY’S sketches 


cat smely! Ses he — ‘Pshaw! that moccasin warn’t 
nothin’ ; I noticed it good, and it wamH rotten a hitV 
Ses I — ‘ Jim, enny man that’ll eat that cat, would eat 
a bullfrog.’ And with that, he knocked me down and 
liked to a killed me ; and that was the reason I didn’t 
want to tell you about him twell we’d passed him.” 

As we neared a pretty little island, on which were a 
house and two or three acres in cultivation, “ Thar,” said 
Dick, “ is Dock Norris’s settlement. I guess he won’t 
^play horse^ agin in a hurry. He claims ’Possum Trot 
for his beat, but we’d all rather he’d take Turpingtine.” 
“ What game was that he played.^” I asked. “ Oh! 
playin’ horse. See, thar was a crowd of boys come 
down and kamped on Turpingtine side, to seine. They 
was but a little ways from the river — leastways thar 
camp-fire was — and between the river and it, is a pretty 
knoll, whar the river’s left a pretty bed of white sand as 
big*as a garden spot, and right at it the water’s ten foot 
deep, and it’s about the same from the top of the bluft* 
to the water. A big, one-eyed feller named Ben Ba- 
ker, was at the head of the town crowd, and as soon as 
they’d struck a camp, Ben and his fellers, except one 
(a lad like), tuck the seine and went away down the 
river, fishin’, and was gone a’most all day. Well, Dock 
bein’ of a sharp, splinter-legged, mink-face feller, gits 
some of his boys, and goes over in the time, and they 
drinks all Ben’s whiskey and most all his coffee, and 
eats up all his bacon-meat — ’sides bein’ sassy to the 
boy. Arter a while here comes Ben and his kump’ny, 
back, wet and tired, and hungry. The boy told ’em 
Dock Norris and his crowd had eat and drunk up eve- 
rything, and Ben’s one eye shined like the ev’ning star. 


OF HIS NEIGHBOURS. 


39 


Whar’s he?” axed Ben; and then he turned round 
and seed Dock and his boys, on thar all-fours, squealin’ 
and rearin’, playin'^ horse, they called it, in that pretty 
sandy place. Ben went right in amongst ’em, and ses 
he, “I’ll play horse, too,” and then he came down to 
his all- fours, and here they had it, round and round, 
rearin’, pitchin’, and cavortin’! Dock was might’ly 
pleased that Ben didn’t seem mad ; but bime-by, Ben 
got him close to the bank, and then, in a minute, ge- 
thered him by the seat of his breeches and the har of 
the head, and slung him twenty foot out in the current. 
About the time Dock ris, Ben had another of the C"Owd 
harnessed, and he throw’d him at Dock! Then he 
pitched another, and so on, twell he’d thrown ’em all 
in. You oughter ’a seen ’em swim to the shoals and 
take that bee-line for home I” “ Why didn’t they turn 
on him and thrash him ?” I asked. “ Oh, you see he 
was a great big fellow, weighed two hundred, and. w^\s 
as strong as a yoke of oxen ; and you know, ’squire, 
most of the people is mighty puny-like, in the Trot. 

e\\, playin'* horse got broke up after that.” 

When the next clearing came into view, I inquired 
of M’Coy, whose it was. “ DonH you know, ’squire ? 
Aint you never seen him ? Why, it’s old Bill Wallis’s 
place, and he’s our ugly man! The whole livin’, 
breathin’ yeth ain’t got the match to his picter ! His 
mouth is split every way, and turned WTong-side out, 
and when he opens it, it’s like spreadin’ an otter trap 
to set it. The skin’s constant a-pealin’ from his nose, 
and his eyes looks like they was just stuck on to his 
face with pins ! He’s got hardly any skin to shet his 
eyes with, and not a sign of har to that little ! His 


40 DICK m’coy’s sketches of his neighbouks. 

years is like a wolf’s, and his tongue’s a’most allers 
handin’ out of his mouth ! His whole face looks like it 

O 

was half-roasted ! Why, he’s obleeged to stay ’bout 
home ; the nabor women is all afraid their babies ’ill be 
like him !” 

Just after this last story, we reached a fall of two 
feet, over which Dick’s plan was to descend bow-fore- 
most, with a ca-souse,” as he expressed it. But we 
ran upon a rock, the current swayed us round, and 
over we went, broad-side. “This is an ugly scrape, 
Dick,” said I, as soon as we got ashore. “ Yes, ’squire, 
but not as ugly as old Wallis; thar’s nuthin but deth 
can eekal him. Howsever, less leave bailin’ the boat 
twell mornin’, and go and stay with old Billy to-night, 
and then you’ll see for yourself.” So, instead of sleep- 
ing at the Horse-shoe, we spent the night with old Bill} 
and his folks ; and we had a rare time there, I iwsurt 
you. 


A NIGHT AT THE UGLY MAN’S. 


In a previous sketch, I mentioned that my friend, 
Dick M’Coy, and myself, were brought to a sudden 
halt, on our “ voyage” to the Horse Shoe, by the capsiz- 
ing of our boat ; and I further mentioned, that we deter- 
mined, as it was late, to attempt no further progress that 
day, but to stop until next morning at the house of Old 
Bill Wallis, the Ugly Man. In accordance with this 
plan, we bailed the boat and made her fast to a tree on 
the «« Turpingtine” side of the river, and commenced 
our walk. 

Adown the rugged, pine-bearing slope of the hill, on 
the top of which the Ugly Man’s residence was situated, 
trickled a slender '■'reamlet, pure and sparkling, like a 
single tear coursing down the rough cheek of manhood. 
Merrily it leaped along between its tiny moss margins 
— mere strips of green velvet — tumbling over miniature 
ledges, and humming forth a tender, complaining sound 
— the faint, delicate echo, of a fairy chime ! Stout pop- 
lars and white oaks, at intervals just sufficient to give 
good sport to the far-jumping gray-squirrels, attested 
the fertilizing power of the little rill, which the dark 
intertwining roots seemed striving to grasp — but the 
streamlet glided through like a silver eel, and kept its 
lownward way, chanting, scarce audibly, its jocund 

(41j 


42 


A NIGHT' AT THE UGLY MAN’S- 


melody. A snowy sheen of dogwood blooms marked 
its course ; and winding beneath these, ran a path 
leading to the humble cabin w^e were about to visit. 

This here’s Old Bill’s spring branch ; he lives up 
there a leetle to the left said my companion. A few 
more strides brought us to the premises of The Jll-Fa- 
voured ! 

The cabin was perched on the hill, within twenty 
yards of a beautiful spring — welling up through the 
whitest sand and bursting through rock and moss — that 
supplies the little stream I have described. It was a 
rough log building. Around it was a low rail fence, 
enclosing a white and well-swept yard. A dozen 
clumps of purple altheas and common roses are grow-, 
ing and blooming in front of the house ; while a luxu- 
riant cypress vine, with its mimosa-like foliage and 
brilliant red flowers, clambered around the door, and 
emulously strove to overspread the roof. On the fence, 
a huge gobbler, with his meek-looking mate, had gone 
to their early roost. A dozen fowls clustered on the 
top of the ash-gum^ and the projecting corners of the 
smolce-house. These, at the first glance, were all the 
signs that indicated inhabited premises. Huge, melan- 
choly pines reared themselves gloomily on all sides, 
except in front — there, the little spring was in view, 
with the oasis its waters had made — the green line of 
oak and poplar, with its under-fringe of creamy flowers, 
winding down the hill — and still further down, the river 
whirling and frothing along to the south-west. 

As we stepped over the low fence, I heard the hum 
of a spinning-wheel, and in another moment one of the 
sweetest, rosiest faces I ever beheld, looked out at the 


A NIGHT AT THE UGLY MAN’S. 43 

door. It was Lucy Wallis, the pretty daughter of the 
Ugly Man ! Saluting us modestly, she asked us in — 
and to be seated — and resumed her work. There be 
few more lovely girls than Lucy. In her moist blue 
eye, was a blended expression of mirthfulness and 
something more tender, that went into your heart with- 
out ever asking leave. Clad in a homespun frock, 
coarse, but tasteful in its colours and adjustment — and 
oh ! how brilliantly spotless — her fingers tipped with 
the blue of the indigo tub — her little feet in buckskin 
moccasins — she plied her task industriously ; now, with 
an arch toss, shaking into place her rich auburn hair, 
and now, with a bound forward, gracefully catching 
the thread that had slipped from her fingers. Sweet- 
voiced, too, was Lucy Wallis, as she stood at her wheel, 
spinning two threads, one of cotton on her spindle, and’ 
the other of gossip, with my excellent and loquacious 
friend Dick M’Coy. 

Plague take the girl ! She has made me forget her 
ugly father! Mr. Wallis and his ‘‘old woman” were 
from home when we got there — having been on a visit 
to a sick neighbour — but in half an hour they returned. 

“ Thar they come,” said Dick, as he heard voices 
outside the cabin ; “ seat yourself, and don’t be scared !” 
Then Dick looked at Lucy. 

“ You’ve never seen daddy, ’squire — have you ?” she 
asked, slightly colouring and pouting. 

“Never have — always had a curiosity” — but the 
wounded expression of the girl stopped me, and in 
another moment, the Ugly Man was before me. 

Truly had M’Coy said, “nothing on the breathin’ 
yearth can match him !” His face, generally, had the 
219 


44 A NIGHT AT THE UGLY MAN’S. 

appearance of a recently healed blister spot. His pro* 
sninent eyes seemed ready to drop from off his face, 
and were almost guiltless of lids. Red, red, red, was 
the all-prevailing colour of his countenance — even his 
eyes partook of it. His mouth — ruby-red — looked as 
if it had been very lately kicked by a roughly-shod 
mule, after having been originally made by gouging a 
hole in his face with a nail-grab ! The tout ensemble 
was horribly, unspeakably ugly ! And yet, in the 
expression of the whole was legible proof of the pater- 
nity of his lovely daughter ! 

« So you’ve come to see old Ugly Mug — have you, 
’squire ? I’ve hearn of you before. You’re the man as 
took the sensers of this country, last time. I was in 
Georgy then. Well, you’re mighty welcome! Old 
’oman, fly around, git somethin’ for the ’squire and 
Dick to eat 1 Lucy, ain’t you got no fresh aiggs 

Lucy went out at this suggestion, and her father 
went on : 

« They call me ugly, ’squire ; and I am ; my father 
was before me the ugliest man that ever lived in Han- 
cock county. But I’ll give you my ixperance after 
supper. Belikes you’ve hearn that I’ve been <:hrough 
the ruffs. No? Well, when we git something down 
our bellies. I’ll tell you all about it. Old ’oman, for 
God’s sake, do fly around thar 1” 

The old lady did “fly around,” and Lucy got the 
« aiggs,” and between them, they got a most excellent 
supper. The purity of the table-cloth, the excellence 
of the coffee, and the freshness of the eggs, not to men- 
tion Lucy’s good looks, were more than a set-off against 
the ugliness of old Billy ; so that Dick and I continued 


A NIGHT AT THE UGLY MAN’S. 45 

to eat quite heartily, to the evident gratification of our 
hospitable, though ugly entertainer. 

Supper over, old Bill drew out his large soap-stone 
pipe, and filling and lighting it, placed it in his mouth. 
After a whiff or two, he began : 

« It’s no use argyfyin’ the matter — I am the ugliest 
man, now on top of dirt. Thar’s narry nuther like me ! 
I’m a crowd by myself. I alters was. The fust I 
know’d of it, tho’, was when I was ’bout ten years old. 
I went down to the spring branch one mornin’, to wash 
my face, and I looked in the water, I seen the shadder 
of my face. Great God ! how I run back, hollerin’ for 
mammy, every jump ! That’s the last time I seen my 
face — I darsen’t but shet my eyes when I go ’bout 
water !” 

Don’t you use a glass, when you shave ?” I 
inquired. 

“Glass! Zounds! What glass could stand it.? — 
’twould bust it, if it was an inch thick. Glass! — 
pish I” 

Lucy told her father he was “ too bad,” and that 
“ he knew it was no sich a thing and the old man 
told herMiie was a “ sassy wench,” and to “ hold her 
tongue.” 

“ Yes,” he continued ; “ it’s so ; I haven’t seen my 
face in forty years, but I know how it looks. Well, 
when I growed up, I thort it would be the devil to find 
a woman that’d be willing to take me, ugly as I was” — 

“ Oh, you was not so oncommon hard-favoured when 
you was a young man,” said old Mrs. Wallis. 

“ Oncommon ! I tell you when I was ten years old, 
a jiy wouldn’t light on my face — and it can’t be much 


46 A NIGHT AT THE UGLY MAN’S. 

wuss now ! Shet up, and let me tell the ’squire my 
ixperance.” 

« It’s no use,” put in Lucy, «« to be runnin’ one’s 
own self down, that way, daddy ! It ain’t right.” 

« Runnin’ down ! Thunder and lightnin’. Luce ! 
you’ll have me as good-lookin’ directly as John Boze- 
man, your sweetheart.” 

As he said this, old Bill looked at me, and succeeded 
in half covering the ball of his left eye,, by way of a 
wink. Lucy said no more. 

The old man continued : 

“ Well, hard as I thort it ’ud be to get a wife, fust 
thing I knowed, I had Sally here ; and she is, or was, 
as pretty as any of them.” 

Old Mrs. Wallis knitted convulsively, and coughed 
slightly. 

“ However, she never kissed me afore we was mar- 
ried, and it was a long time arter afore she did. The 
way of it was this : we had an old one-horned cow, 
mighty onnery (ordinary) lookin’, old as the North Star, 
and poor as a black snake. One day I went out to the 
lot”— 

Daddy, I wouldnH tell thaty^ exclaimed Lucy, in 
the most persuasive tones. 

«<Drot ef I don’t, tho — it’s the truth, and ef you 
don’t keep still. I’ll send for Bozeman to hold you quiet 
in the corner.” 

Lucy pouted a little, and was silent. 

“ Yes, I went out to the lot, and thar, sure as life, 
was my old ’oman, swung to the cow, and the old thing 
flyin’ round, and cuttin’ up all sorts o’ shines ! Ses I, 
‘ what the h-11 are you up to, old’ oman And 


A NIGHT AT THE UGLY MAN’S. 47 

with that she let go, and told me she was tryin’ to 
prac^t:3e kissin’ on old ‘Cherry,’ and she thort arter 
that she could make up her mind to lass me /” 

“Old man, you made that! I’ve hearn you tell it 
afore — but you made it,” said the old lady. 

“ Well, well ! I told her, ’squire, ses I, ‘ come down 
to it now ! — hang the cow — shet your eyes ! — hold your 
breath I’ — and upon that she bussed so’s you might a 
heard it a quarter, and since, nobody’s had better kissin’ 
than me I Now, that was my first ixperance about 
bein’ ugly, arter I was grown, and ’twan’t so bad 
neither ! 

“ The next time my ugly feeturs came into play, 
was in Mobile ; was you ever thar! Worst place on 
the green yearth ; steamboats, oysters, free niggers, 
furrinners, brick houses — hell! that'^s the place! I 
went down on a flat-boat from Wetumpky, with old 
John Todd. We had a fust- rate time of it, ’twell we 
got most to Mobile, and then the d — d steamboats 
would run so close to us, that the sloshin^ would pretty 
nigh capsize us. They done it for devilment. My . 
how old John cussed! but it done no good. At last, 
ses I, ‘ I’ll try ’em ; ef thar’s enny strength in cussin’. 
I’ll make ’em ashamed !’ So the next one come along 
cavortin’ and snortin’ like it was gwine right into us, 
and did pass in twenty foot ! I riz right up on a cot- 
ton bag, and ses I to the crowd — which there was a 
most almighty one on the guards of the boat — ses I, 
‘ you great infernal, racket-makin’, smokin’, snortin’, 
hell totin’ sons of thunder — ’ 

“ Afore I could git any furder in my cussin’, the 
crowd gin the most tremenjus, yearth-shakin’ howl that 


48 A NIGHT AT THE UGLY MAN’S. 

ever was beam — and one fellar, as they was broad-side 
with us, hollored out, ‘ It’s the old He ugly himself! 
Great G — d, what a mouth 1’ With that, thar was 
somethin’ rained and rattled in our boat like hail, only 
hevier, and directly me and old John picked up a level 
peck of huck-horn-handled Imives ! I’ll be darn’d this 
minit if we didn’t!” 

Old Mrs. Wallis looked to Heaven, as if appealing 
there for the forgiveness of some great sin her ugly 
consort had committed ; but she said nothing. 

« So I lost nothin’ by bein’ ugly that time ! Arter I 
got into Mobile, howsever, I was bothered and pestered 
by the people stoppin’ in the street to look at me — all 
dirty and lightwood-smoked as I was, from bein’ on the 
boat.” — 

<< I think I’d a cleaned up a little,” interposed tidy 
Lucy. 

“ Old ’oman I alrdt you got nary cold ’tater to choke 
that gal with ! Well they’d look at me the hardest you 
ever seen. But I got ahead o’ my story : A few days 
afore, thar had been a boat busted, and a heap o’ peo- 
ple scalded and killed, one way and another. So at 
last, as I went into a grocery, a squad of people fol- 
lowed me in, and one ’lowed, ses he, « it’s one of the 
unfortunate sufferers by the bustin’ of the Franklin,’ 
and upon that he axed me to drink with him, and as I 
had my tumbler half way to my mouth, he stopped me 
of a sudden — 

‘ Beg your pardon, stranger — but’ — ses he. 

‘ But — what.?’ ses I. 

“ ‘ Jist fix your mouth that way again V ses he. 

“ I done it, just like I was gwine to drink, and I’ll 
be cussed if I didn’t think the whole on ’em would go 


A NIGHT AT THE UGLY MAN’S. 


49 


into fits! — they yelled and whooped like a gang of 
wolves. Finally, one of ’em ses, « don’t make fun of 
the unfortunate ; he’s hardly got over bein’ blowed up 
yet. Less make up a puss for him.’ Then they all 
throwed in, and made up five dollars ; as the spokes- 
man handed me the change, he axed me, ‘ Whar did 
you find yourself after the ’splosion 
‘ In a flat-boat,’ ses I. 

« ‘ How far from the Franklin ses he. 

<t < Why,’ ses I, « I never seen her^ but as nigh as I 
can guess, it must have been, from what they tell me, 
nigh on to three hundred and seventy-five miles V You 
oughter ’a seen that gang scatter. As they left, ses 
one, ‘ It’s him. Ith the Ugly Man of allV 

“ Knockin’ round the place, I came upon one o’ these 
fellers grinds music out’n a mahogany box. He had a 
little monkey along — the d — dest peartest, least bit of a 
critter, you ever seed 1 Well, bein’ fond of music and 
varmints, I gits pretty close to the masheen, and d — d 
ef ’twan’t hard to tell which got the most praise, me or 
the monkey. Howsever, at last, I got close up, and 
the darn thing ketcht a sight of me and squalled ! It 
jumped ofT’n the box in a fright, and bang’d itself by 
its chain. The grinder histed it up agin, but it squalled 
more’n ever, and jerked and twisted and run over the 
keeper, and jumped ofT’n his back, and heng’d itself 
agin. The sight ol* me had run it distracted! At last 
the grinder hilt it to his bosom, and ses he, 

‘ Go ways, oagley man — maungkee fraid much oag- 
lyl’ Ses I, < Go to h-11, you old heathen — (you see 
he was some sort of a Dutch chap or another) — if you 
compar me to your dirty monkey agin, I’ll throw it 


50 


A NIGHT AT THE UGLY MAN’S. 


hell’arcls, and split your old box over your head! 
And ses he right off agin, 

“ < Maungkee ish petter ash dat oagley mans I’ 

Ses I, Gentlemen, you heer this crittur compar me, 
a free Amerakin, to his d — d heathen dumb brute of 
Afriky and with that, I fetched the monkey sailing 
that sent him a whirlin’ about sixty-five yards, over a 
brick wall, and the next minit the Dutchman and his 
box was the wost mixed up pile of rags and splinters 
you ever seen in one mud-hole ! About that time, too, 
thar was a pretty up-country runnin’ on top o’ them cuss- 
ed bricks as you’ll commonly see. I lay up two or three 
days, and at last made my passage up to Wetumpky, in 
the cabin P"* 

« How was that ?” I asked. 

“ An old lady, that was along, ’lowed that it was 
dangersome for me to stay on the deck, as I might scare 
the:* masheenery out o’ jint. So they tuck me in the 
cabin afore we started, and I reckon I was treated nigh 
on to a hundred times, afore "we got to Wetumpky.” 

“ That’s not the way you told it the last time,” 
remarked Mrs. Wallis. 

“ Thunder 1 ’squire, did you ever hear sich wimmen 
folks — I’ve hardly had a chance to edge in a word, to- 
night. Well, my last ixperance was about a year ago. 
I got ketcht in a hurricane ; it was blowin’ like the 
devil, and the thunder and lightnin’ was tremenjus — ^^so I 
gits under a big red-oak, and thar I sot ’twell the light- 
nin’ struck it ! I was leanin’ agin the tree wdien the 
bolt come down, shiverin’ and splinterin’ all before it. 
It hit me right here” — << and then” — 


A NIGHT AT THE UGLY MAN’S. ' 51 

«« Good Heavens! did lightning disfigure your face 
so ?” 

“ Disfigure h — 11! No! The lightnin’ struck right 
here, as I was sayin’, and then — it glanced!’^ 

‘‘ Good Lord look down !” ejaculated Mrs. Wallis. 

You’d better go to bed now, ’squire,” said old Bill ; 
“ and in the mornin’ I’ll go with you and Dick to the 
Horse Shoe. That was the main feetur’ of old Hick- 
ory, He was ugly some, hisself. God bless |jim, I’ve 
seed him — but he didn’t have the gift like me. Good 
night.” 


THE MUSCADINE STORY. 


A CHAFER IN THE BIOGRAPHY OF CAPTAIN SUGGS.” 

It was in the account which we once gave the pub- 
lic, we believe, of the scrape which Daddy Biggs” 
got into at Cockerell’s Bend, that we alluded to a cer- 
tain affair, known as the ‘‘Muscadine Story;” the 
which, in the opinion of our hero, was not a matter to 
be related in print, while “ wimmen” remained so 
« momtus jellus a thing ^ The story was therefore 
suppressed, and our readers left to worry their brains 
with impotent surmises, conjectures, and speculations. 

Time, the great modifier, often softens the harshest 
aspect, while he corrugates and disfigures the most 
beautiful. Alike are his operations in the physical and 
moral world. Mrs. Suggs acknowledges a change in 
her view of things, produced by the lapse of years. 
The Captain’s former vagaries — his little peccadilloes 
— his occasional gallantries — she now considers as the 
venial errors of a somewhat extended juvenility. In 
fact, the good old lady feels some little pride now, at 
the recital of any incident -tending to show the irresisti- 
bility of her liege lord, considered with reference to the 
softer sex. “Bygones are bygones with her — if Cap- 
tain Suggs was good lookin’ and sassy, it was not her 

( 62 ) 


THE MUSCADINE STORY. 


53 


fault.” The reader will observe that she speaks in 
the tense — Suggs fait^ alas! as far as female con- 

quest is concerned — he stands now simply a tottering, 
whitened, leaky-eyed, garrulous old man. Mrs. Suggs, 
therefore, is no longer annoyed by allusion to his 
prowess in other days, and the tale of the Muscadine 
may, with propriety, be made public. 

It was a bland September morning, in a year that 
need not be specified, that the Captain, standing in 
view of the west door of the court-house at Dadeville, 
perceived the sheriff emerging therefrom, a bundle of 
papers in hand, and looking as if he desired to execute 
some sort of a capias. 

The Captain instantly bethought him, that there was 
an indictment pending against himself for gaming, and 
began to collect his energies for an emergency. The 
sheriff hailed him at the same moment, and requested 
him to “ hold on.” 

“ Stop, Ellis — right thar in your tracks, as the bullet 
said to the buck,” Suggs responded ; « them docky- 
ments look venermous 

“No use,” said the officer — “sooner or later you 
must be taken ; dog-face Billy Towns is here, and he’ll 
go your security.” 

“ Keep off, I tell you, Ellis ; I ain’t safe to-day — the 
old woman’s coffee was cold this mornin’, and it fretted 
me. If you’ve got anything agin me, keep it ’till Court 
— I’ll be thar — ‘ waive all formalities,’ you know I” 

“ I will waive nothing,” replied the sheriff, advanc- 
ing : “ I’ll put you whar I can find you when wanted.” 

Suggs drew an old revolving pistol, whereupon the 
jheriff paused. 


54 


THE MUSCADINE STOBY. 


The blood,” shouted the Captain, of the High 
SheriiT of Tallapoosy County be upon his own head. 
If he crowds on to me, I give fair warnin’ I’ll discharge 
this revoUen^ pistol seven several and distinct times, as 
nigh into the curl of his forehead, as the natur’ of the 
case will admit.” 

For a moment the sheriff was intimidated ; but recol- 
lecting that Capt. Suggs had a religious dread of carry- 
ing loaded fire-arms about his person, although he often 
sported them uncharged for effect, he briskly resumed 
his stride, and the Captain, hurling the revolter” at 
his head, at once fell into a “ killing pace” towards the 
rack where stood his pony, “ Button.” 

The sheriff’s horse, by chance, was tied at the same 
rack, but a wag of a fellow, catching Suggs’s idea, un- 
hitched the pony, and threw the bridle over its neck, 
and held it ready to be mounted ; so that the Captain 
was in his saddle, and his nag at half speed, ere the 
sheriff put his foot in the stirrup. 

Here they go ! clattering down the street “ like an 
armed troop !” Now the blanket-coat of the invincible 
Captain disappears round Luke Davenport’s corner! 
The sheriff is hard after him ! « Go it, Ellis 1” Go it, 
Suggs! Whoop! whoop! hurrah!” Again the 
skirts of the blanket-coat become visible, on the rise by 
M’Cleudon’s, whisking about the pony’s rump ! Lay 
whip. Sheriff; your bay’s lazy!” The old bay gains 
on Button, however. But now they turn down the long 
hill towards Johnson’s Mill creek. Right sturdily the 
pony bears his master on, but the bay is overhauling 
him fast! They near the creek! He has him ! no! 
—the horse runs against the pony — falls himself— pro- 


THE MUSCADINE STORY. 


65 


jects his rider into the thicket on the right — and knocks 
the pony and its rider into the stream ! 

It happened, that, by the concussion or some other 
cause, the girth of Captain Suggs’s saddle was broken ; 
so that neither himself nor his saddle was precisely on 
Button’s back when they reached the water. It wms no 
time to stop for trifles, however ; so leaving the saddle 
in the creek, the Captain bestrode the bare back of his 
panting animal, and made the best of his way onward. 
He knew that the Sheriff would still follow, and he 
therefore turned from the road at right angles, skirted 
the creek swamp for a mile, and then took a direction 
by which he would reach the road again, four or five 
miles from the scene of his recent submersion. 

The dripping Captain and his reeking steed cut a 
dolorous figure, as they traversed the woods. It w^as 
rather late in the season to make the hydropathic treat- 
ment they had so lately undergone agreeable ; and the 
departure of the Captain from Dadeville had been too 
unexpected and hurried to allow the slightest opportu- 
nity for filling his quart tickler. « Wonder,” said he 
to himself, if I won’t take a fit afore I git any more — 
or else have a whole carryvan of blue-nose monkeys 
and forky-tail snakes after me — and so get a sight of 
the menajerie ’thout payin’ the fust red cent ! Git up, 
you d — d Injun !” With the last words, Simon vigor- 
ously drove his heels against Button’s sides, and in a 
half hour had regained the road. 

Scarcely had Captain Suggs trotted an hundred yards, 
when the sound of horses’ feet behind him caused him 
to look back. It was the Sheriff. 

“Hello! Sheriff! stop!” said Suggs. 


56 


THE MUSCADINE STORY. 


The Sheriff drew up his horse. 

u Pve got a proposition to make to you ; you can go 
home with me, and thar I can give bond.’’ 

Very well,” said the Sheriff. 

« But hands off till we git thar, and you Vide fifty 
steps ahead of me, for fear of accidents — that’s the 
proposition.” 

Agreed !” 

<«Not so fast,” said Suggs, «<thar’s a condition.” 

‘‘What’s that?” 

“ Have you got any liquor along?” 

The Sheriff pulled out a black bottle by way of reply. 

“ Now,” said Captain Suggs, “ do you put the bot- 
tle on that stump thar, and ride out from the road fifty 
yards, and when I git it, take your position in front.” 

These manceuvres were performed with much accu- 
racy, and the parties being ready, and the Captain one 
drink ahead, 

“For — rard, march!” said Suggs. ' 

In this order, the Sheriff and Captain wended their 
way, until they arrived at the crossing of Eagle Creek, 
a stream having a miry swamp on each side. As his 
pony was drinking, an idea popped into the Captain’s 
head which was immediately acted upon. He sudden- 
ly turned his pony’s head down stream, and in half a 
minute was out of sight. 

“ Come, Button,” said he, “let’s hunt wild-cats a 
spell I” 

The Sheriff, almost as soon as he missed our hero, 
heard him splashing down the creek. He plunged into 
the swamp, with the intention of heading him, but the 
mud was so soft that after floundering about a little 


THE MUSCADINE STORY. 


6T 


while, he gave it up, and returned to the road, cursing 
as much for the loss of his black bottle, as of the 
Captain. 

« Hello, Ellis !” shouted Suggs. 

«« Hello, yourself 

Don’t you try that swamp no more ; it’ll mire 
butterflies, in spots!” 

<‘No danger!” was the response. 

«« And don’t you try to follow me, on that tall horse, 
down the run of this creek ; if you do, you’ll have both 
eyes hangin’ on bamboo briers in goin’ a hundred yards 
— besides, moccasin time ain^t over yet^ and thar’s lots 
of ’em about these old logs!” 

« Take care of yourself, you d — d old thief!” said 
the irritated officer. 

« Once again, Ellis, old fellow !” said Suggs, coax- 
ingly. 

“ What do you want.^*” 

« Nothin’, only I’m much obleeged to you for this 
black bottle — here"^s luck ! — you can charge the price 
in the next bill of costs you git agin me !” 

The discomfited Sheriff could stand this jeering from 
the Captain no longer, so he put spurs to his horse and 
left. 

“ Now,” murmured Suggs, let me depart in peace, 
for thar’s no chance to ketch up with me now ! — Cuss 
the hole — and yonder’s a blasted horsin’ log ! 

Well, the wicked flee when no man pursueth ; won- 
der what they’d do if they had that black rascal, Mar- 
tin Ellis, after ’em, on that infernal long-legged bay.'^ 
Durn the luck ! thar’s that new saddle that I borrowed 
from the Mississippi feller — which he’ll never come 


58 


THE MUSCADINE STORY. 


back for it — thaVs lost in the mill creek ! — ^jist as good 
as ten dollars out of my pocket. Well, it’s no use 
’sputin’ with providence — hit will purvide !” 

“ The Grand Jurors of the State of Alabama,” he 
continued, soliloquizing in the verbiage of an indict- 
ment ; “ elected, sworn, and charged — d d rascals 

all^ with Jim Bulger at the Iwad ! — to inquire for the 
body of Tallapoosa County — durn their hearts ! its my 
body they^re after ! — upon their oaths present — the h — I 
they do ! — that Simon Suggs — hem ! thath me, hut they 
mighVve put the ‘ Captain^ to it^ though ! — late of said 
County — d — d if I warnH one of the fust settlers j which I 
was here, afore they had a sign of a Court House ! 

“ Well, it’s no use thinkin’ about the lyin’ thing ; I’ll 
have to go to Hadenskeldt, at Court, to git me out’n the 
suck. Now, he*s a quar one, ain’t he 1 Never got him 
to do any law job for me yet but what I had to pay him 
— d — n the feller. Anybody would think ’twas as hard 
to git money from me as ’tis for a man to draw a head- 
less tenpenny nail out’n an oak post with his teeth — but 
that little black-headed lawyer makes a ten, or a twenty, 
come every pop ! 

“Wonder how fur ’tis down to the bend? This 
creek makes into the river about a mile below it, they 
say. Never mind, thar’s a few drinks of the ipsydinxy 
left, and the menajjerie won’t open to-day. I judge if 
my old woman knowed whar I was goin’, and who I was 
goin’ to see, she’d make the yeath shake. But she 
don’t know ; it’s a prinsippel that Providence has put 
into the bosom of a man — leastways all sensible men — 
to run on and talk a heap afore their wives, to make 
em Ijelieve they^re turnin^ wrong side out before ’em, and 


THE MUSCADINE STORY. 


59 


yel never tell ’em the fust d — d word of truth. It’s 
a wise thing in providence, too. Wonder if I’ll ketch 
that rascal Jim Sparks jewlarkin’ round Betsy, down at 
old Bob’s!” 


PLURIMA DESUNT. 

On the morning after the occurrence of the adventure 
we have related, Captain Suggs sat in a long trim-built 
Indian canoe, which was moored to the north bank of 
the Tallapoosa river. Near him was Miss Betsy Cocke- 
rell. She sat facing the Captain, on a board laid across 
the gunwales of the boat. Miss Betsy was a bouncing 
girl, plump, firm, and saucy, with a mischievous rolling 
eye, and a sharp w’ord for ever at her tongue’s end. 
She seemed to be coquetting with the paddle she held 
in her hand, and occasionally would strike it on the 
water, so as to besprinkle Captain Suggs, much to his 
annoyance. 

Oh, Captin, you do persuade me to^promise you so 
hard. And Jim Sparks says you’re married ; and if you 
ain’t you mought ’a been, twenty years ago ; you’re old 
enough.” — (splash !) 

«D — n it, mind how you throw your water! Jim 
Sparks is a triflin’ dog — if I have got a wife, Betsy, she 
is goin’ fast.” ^ 

Coin’ whar ?” asked Betsy, striking the water 
again. 

“Confound your paddle! can’t you keep it stilh^ 
Providence is goin’ to take her home, Betsy — she’s 
dwindled away to a shadder, with that cough and one 
thing and another. She ain’t long for this world,” ne 
added mournfully ; “ and if you, Betsy, will only make 
220 


60 


THE MUSCADINE STORY. 


up your mind — the devil take that paddle ! — you’ll turn 
over the boat and throw me in the river ! — make up 
your mind to step into her shoes, it looks like it would 
sort o’ reconcile me to lose her” — and here a tear leaked 
out of each corner of the Captain’s eyes. 

« Oh, Captin,” said Betsy, half shutting one eye, and 
looking quizzical; “thar’s so many good-lookin’ young 
fellers about, I hate to give ’em up. I like you, Cap- 
tin, but thar’s Bill Edwards, and Jet Wallis, and Jim 
Sparks, and” — 

«tGood lookin’!’ and ‘Jet Wallis’ and ‘Jim 
Sparks !’ Why Jet’s mouth is no better than a hole 
made in the fore part of his head with a claw-hammer 
— and as for Jim Sparks, he’s got the face of a terrier 
dog.” 

“ Do you coxmi yourself good-lookin’.-^” asked Betsy, 
with great naivete. 

“ Gal !” replied Suggs, with dignity, “ did you ever 
see me in my uniform } with my silver oppolots on my 
shoulder and my red sash round my waist } and the 
sword that Governor Bagby give me, with the gold 
scabbard a bangin’ by my side 

Just at this moment a step was heard, and before the 
Captain and Betsy had recovered from the shock of 
intrusion. Sheriff Ellis stepped into the boat, and assert- 
ed that Suggs “ was his prisoner!” 

“ Treed at last!” said the Captain ; “ but it’s no use 
frettin’ ; the ways of Providence is mysterious. But 
whar did you cross, Ellis !” 

“ Oh, I knew you’d be about the old lick log ’a fish- 
in’ with Betsy. I’ll turn the kunnoo loose, and Bets, 
will take us across. I crossed at Hambrick’s ferry, left 


THE MUSCADINE STORY. 


61 


my horse on t’other side, and come down on you, like 
a mink on a settin’ hen. Come! come! it’s time we 
were off to Dadeville.” 

“ Providence is agin me,” sighed the Captain ; I’m 
pulled up with a short jerk, in the middle of my kur- 
reer. Well, but,” he continued, musing, << ’spose a 
feller tries on his own hook — no harm in takin’ all the 
chances — I ain’t in jail, ydV* 

A few yards below the boat landing, there grew out 
of the bank, an immense water-oak, projecting over the 
river, at an angle of about forty-five. A huge musca- 
dine vine enwrapped the oak in every part, its branches 
and tendrils covering it like network. The grapes 
were now ripe, and hung over the river 

in bacchanal profusion, — 

Purple and gushing.” 

Betsy allowed the canoe to drop down slowly, just 
outside of where the tips of the lower branches of the 
tree dallied with the rippling water. The fruit attract- 
ed the Sheriff’s eye and appetite, and reaching out an 
arm he laid hold of a branch, and began to «« pluck and 
eat.” 

D — n the grapes!” said Suggs, angrily ; let’s go 
on!” 

« Keep cool,” said the Sheriff, « I’ll fill my pockets 
first.” 

Be in a hurry, then, and if you will gather the d — d 
things, reach up and pull down them big bunches, up 
thar” — pointing to some fine clusters higher than the 
Sheriff could reach, as he stood up in the boat — “ pull 
the vines down to you !” 


62 


THE MUSCADINE STORY. 


The Sheriff tried, but the vines resisted his utmost 
strength ; so crying « steady !” he pulled himself up 
clear of the boat, and began to try to establish a footing 
among the foliage. 

At this moment Captain Suggs made no remark 
orally, but his eye said to Betsy, as plainly as eye 
could talk, hit her a lick back, my gal !” 

Silently the paddle went into the water, Betsy lean- 
ing back, with lips compressed, and in a second the 
canoe shot ten feet out from the tree, and the Sheriff 
was left dangling among the vines ! 

Stop your blasted jokes !” roared the officer. 

« Keep cool, old Tap-my-shoulder ! thar’s jist the 
smallest grain of a joke in this here, that ever you seed. 
It’s the coldest sort of airnest.” 

What shall I do ? How shall I get out of this ?” 
asked Ellis, piteously. 

«« Let all go and drop in the water, and swim out,” 
was the reply. 

“ I can’t swim a lick — how deep is it?” 

Suggs seemed to ruminate, and then replied, 

“From — say — fifteen — yes, at hasty fifteen — to — 
about twenty- five foot. Ugly place !” 

“ Great God,” said poor Ellis, “you certainly won’t 
leave me here to drown — my strength is failing already.” 

“ If I don’t,” said the Captain, most emphatically, 
“ I wish I may be landed into a thousand foot h — 1,” 
and saying a word to Betsy, they shot rapidly across 
the river. 

Kissing his companion as he stepped out of the boat, 
Suggs sought Button, who was tied in a thicket near 
by, and mounting, pursued his homeward way. 



« Silently the psuldle went into the water, Betsy leaning hack, with lips compressed, and 
in a second the canoe shot ten feet out from the tree, and the Sheriff was left dangling 
among the vines .” — Page 62. 








♦ . . 


V* er 



» 



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4 

J 

I 









I ,y 


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THE MUSCADINE STORY. 


63 


« JVever despar , he said to himself, as he jogged 
along — “ never despar ! Honesty, a bright watch-out, 
a hand o’ cards in your fingers and one in your lap, 
with a little grain of help from Providence, will always 
fetch a man through ! Never despar ! I’ve been hunted 
and tracked and dogged like a cussed wolf, but the 
Lord has purvided, and my wust inimy has tuck a tree ! 
Git up. Button, you blasted, flop-eared injun !” 


THE BAILIFF THAT “ STUCK TO HIS OATH.” 


When I first had the honour of representing the State 
of Alabama, as Solicitor of the << Bloody Ninth” Cir- 
cuit, I had a rough road to travel. The people gene- 
rally were none of the most refined, and the state dock- 
ets, in particular, showed a class of individuals who 
geographically described themselves as ‘‘Ac fellows, 
hard to head.” A novice in the prosecuting line, I 
soon found that it would require all my vigilance and 
tact to prevent frequent and disastrous defeats. The 
experience, fertility of resource, impudence, and gene- 
ral sharpness of the “ State’s” opponents did, in fact, as 
often win as lose. In plain cases, it was even betting ! 
The “ law and the testimony” might be as apparent as 
the nose on John Tyler’s face, and yet the rascals would 
often, by some ingenious and devilish device, clear the 
well-arranged meshes of legislative enactments. I 
ascertained in short (by the way, it was whispered 
confidentially in my ear, by that arch enemy of “the 
State,” Burrell Blackman — an old fellow, half- trader, 
half-lawyer, of inimitable physiognomical characteris- 
tics and interminable business ramifications in every 
county of the circuit — ), I ascertained, I say, that to be 
efficient, a solicitor must get the “ hang^^ of his cus~ 
tomers ! 


( 64 ) 


THE BAILIFF THAT STUCK TO HIS OATH.” 65 

Another disadvantage under which I laboured was 
this : — thp judges and solicitors who, previously to my 
incumbency, had administered the law, had, in “ ten- 
der commiseration” of the freshness of the country — 
then but recently occupied by whites — exhibited great 
leniency towards those who chanced to be arraigned for 
mere misdemeanors. Murder, arson, burglary, and the 
like, were punished promptly enough; but offences 
against the statutes inhibiting gaming, retailing liquor 
without license, adultery, and so forth, were viewed 
with much allowance, in the old Ninth. In truth, the 
Judges themselves liked toddy, and whist, per se, and 
did not perceive that the flavour of the one was regu- 
lated by the legal competency of the vender, or the 
amusement of the other increased or diminished by the 
absence of those circumstances which go to make up a 
case of “ unlawful gaming.” So far did this sentiment 
and practice obtain, that numerous jokes and stories 
were concocted, and boldly related, illustrative of the 
penchant for liquor and cards, of the afore-mentioned 
functionaries. Among these, was a bit of badinage^ 
that old Burrell (aforesaid) alw^ays jocularly plagued 
Bill Swallow, my predecessor, with — that in his (the 
said Burrell’s), county, the grand jury never adjourned 
until all their loose cash had been transferred to the 
solicitor’s pockets, and that then the grand inquest 
stood dissolved, ipso facto. Swallow used to laugh 

consumedly” at Burrell’s wit, and declare that the 
solicitorship of the Ninth would starve any man that 
hadn’t luck and skill enough to beat the bench, bar, 
and juries of the circuit, at poker.” 

The bar of the circuit were, on the whole, a clever 


66 


THE BAILIFF THAT 


set. Only a few rode through all the counties — the 
rest would be met at two or three of the courts only. 
Among those whose names will occasionally appear in 
these notes, were Sam Wheat,” who rode the entire 
circuit, and had a finger in nearly every case of import- 
ance; ‘‘Lewis,” who, like Sam, went all round — and 
like him, in another respect, was a cultivated man, and 
an able lawyer ; “ Botts,” who stuck to his own courts, 
where he let inferior men take precedence of him, out 
of sheer bashfulness, notwithstanding he had a piquant 
vein of sharp sarcasm in him, with which he occasion- 
ally punished ; Boanerges Mix, who was sui generis — • 
the most original man I ever saw. Lastly, was Mit- 
chem Maull, Esq., a capital fellow, crazy on the sub- 
ject of law, whereof he knew less than a Hottentot, but 
gifted with a fluency of expression, earnestness of man- 
ner,, and oddity of thought, which, when worked toge- 
ther in one of his speeches, never failed to make judge, 
lawyers, jury, spectators, and all, roar with incontrolla- 
ble laughter. Maull was almost an “ innocent.” He 
had, however, a simplicity of the most amusing sort, 
and was the pet of the bar, who liked to encourage and 
bring him forward on all occasions. 

Having thus endeavoured to give my readers some 
idea of the field of my labours, I propose to amuse them 
(if I can) with such anecdotical recollections as will 
serve to show how I gradually got the hang of my 
custormrs'*'^ in the Ninth Circuit. 

The riding commenced in the county of Randolph. 
This county was most prolific of assaults and batteries, 
assaults with intent to murder — (sometimes the intent 
was executed !) — with a sprinkling of “ gaming” and 


67 


STUCK TO HIS OATH.*’ 

« A. & F.” Well, to Randolph I went, and soon had a 
very good grand jury packed away in a room, an hun- 
dred yards from the Court House. The bailiff in attend- 
ance on them, was a shrewd-looking old chap, with a 
mischievous eye, and a nose that would certainly be 
considered dangerous in the vicinity of a powder maga- 
zine. “ Here,” said I to myself, as they passed out of 
the Court House, “here is a good bailiff, to begin with.” 
I went down to my room at the tavern, to arrange some 
papers, at the time the grand jury marched off to their 
quarters, and then ^urried back to communicate with 
that august body. ' ' The fiery-nosed bailiff held the 
lock-knob of the closed door in his hand, and his look 
was that of a man determined «« to do or die.” 

“ Tell the grand jury I wish to lay some business 
before them,” said I to the jailor. 

<< No you don’t, ’squire,” he replied. 

“Don’t what? Tell the foreman I want to come 
into the jury room.” 

“ No you don’t — nobody ain’t allowed to go in thar ! 
Agin the law.” As he made this response, the bailiff 
looked very consequential. 

“You infernal jackass,” said I, somewhat irritated. 
“ I’m the solicitor, and want to communicate with the 
grand jury — let me go in !” 

“ I reckon I know the solicitor,” dryly responded the 
bailiff ; “ but you canH get 

“ If you know me, why don’t you let me go in, or tell 
the foreman that I’m waiting here ?” 

“Because, you see, I’m a sworn officer.” 

“ What of that — didn’t you hear the judge tell the 
jury that the state’s attorney would confer with them, 


THE BAILIFF THAT 


69l 

advise them, and so on ? However, if you won’t let 
me in, I suppose I can make them hear me. Hel — ” 

£c Stop ! — stop ! — by — ! stop !” exclaimed the bai- 
liff. All I know is. I’m sworn not to speak to ’em my- 
self^ nor suffer enny body else to speak to ’em, and by 
thunder, if you open your mouth to holler to ’em, Pll 
have to choke you and take you before the court ! I’m 
a sworn officer !” 

I never felt more sheepish in my life. It struck me 
that my bailiff was, considering his looks, the most 
incomparable ass I had ever seen. But how to remedy 
the matter That was the question. It was evident he 
wouldn’t announce me to the jury, and it was equally 
evident from his expression, that he only desired to have 
a pretence to hustle” me up before the court. Could 
it be possible that he really believed he was performing 
his duty.^ It looked so — and the solicitor of the 
« Bloody Old Ninth” slunk off to his room. At dinner 
time, the foreman gave the proper instructions to the 
bailiff, and that functionary, with a profusion of apolo- 
getic and complimentary expressions that did great cre- 
dit to his breeding, assured me that thereafter I would 
find him always ready to recognise my rights to the 
fullest extent. ‘‘It was all,” he swore, “his ignunce'^ 
— (ignorance.) However, that night, as I chanced to 
be passing by a “ grocery,” I heard a voice which I 
recognised as my bailiff’s. I paused, and looked in, 
from the shadow of a tree. The bailiff was leaning 
with his left arm on the counter ; in his right hand he 
held a tumbler of what I took to be “sweetened 
sperrits.” A group of the boys almost encircled him. 


69 


‘‘stuck to his oath.” 

‘‘Take notice, boys,” he said, “soon as the grand 
jury went into the room, Peter Bowen — a d — d old ras- 
cal ! — commenced talkin’ about havin’ the boys up for 
playin’ cards in the old house at Frog Level. I knowed 
’twas Peter, for I put my ear close to the key-hole, and 
heard him plain. Some of the jury ’lowed it warnt 
agin the law to play in sich a place as that ; old Peter, 
tho’, said it was ‘ an out-house whar people resorted,’ 
and that was pint-blank agin Clay’s Digest. Mind, 
boys, I knowed ’twas agin the law, all the time, but I 
said nothin’ — only thought to myself how I could git 
the boys outer that scrape — for I seed thar was danger 
of thar sendin* for witnesses to come before"" eml I 
knowed. in reason they’d send for Bill Crow and John 
Adams, which knowed all about the playin’, and I 
wanted a chance to give the boys the wink, so the off’- 
ser couldn’t find ’em. Well, arter a little, the jury 
settled down that they’d wait twell the s’lic’tor should 
come, and they’d take his opinion. Now, thinks I, 
how shall I keep off the s’lic’tor when he does come 

“ You d — d old villain !” I muttered between my 
teeth — “so you horned me off to get a chance to get 
gaming witnesses out of the way!” 

“ About the time,” he continued, “ I was tryin’ to 
work the thing out in my head, here he come, and 
boys” — (here the speaker imbibed slightly) — “if a 
thing was ever done up perfectly brown, like old Katy’s 
cake, I done it when I come it over that s’lic’tor, and 
kept him from that jury twell the boys had left ! You 
know how I done it — well” — (here he finished his tum- 
bler) — “ thar’s hopin’ he may find the same luck wher- 


(0 THE BAILIFF THAT STUCK TO HIS OATH.” 

i<ver he goes, and that the boys may never lack a grand 
jury bailiff that sticks to his oath 
Three cheers and a drink all round succeeded — and 
I left in a hurry, with the virtuous determination, at the 
very first opportunity, to « crowd” my red-nosed friend, 
for the very effectual manner in which he had ‘‘ sold” 
me to th-^ Philistines. „ 


JIM BELL’S KEVENGE. 


On the morning during which the red-nosed bailiff 
so ruthlessly kept me from going into the grand jury 
room, that he might spirit off the gaming witnesses, I 
was somewhat repaid for my exclusion, and the wound 
inflicted on “ the peace and dignity,” by witnessing an 
amusing scene on the public square. The court-house 
town of Randolph, like other villages, had its dozens of 
wild youngsters — clerks, overgrown school-boys, and 
other larks, who were always ready for any deviltry that 
might turn up. Of course, they acted in concert — I 
never knew a set of the kind that did not. The thing 
is a sort of free masonry of mischief, and the members 
are usually all bright.” Let one make a demonstra- 
tion against any luckless individual selected as a vic- 
tim, and upon the instant, the whole clan take the cue, 
and begin the work of tormenting. Generally some 
inebriate is chosen, and while Bill Swinney holds him 
in conversation, Tom Abels slips up behind, and lets 
fly into his ear a cold stream of water from a squirt — or 
Tom Owen, pretending to brush an insect from his hair, 
embraces the opportunity” to smear the unfortunate’s 
face with a “ good article” of boot blacking. Still 
another variety of the fun-making is to catch two poor 
devils drunk, and get them together ‘‘ by the ears,” by 


72 


JIM bell’s kevenge. 


carrying fabricated messages from the one to the other. 
It was a specimen of this last-mentioned kind of amuse- 
ment that I witnessed, on the morning in question. 

Jim Bell, who lived (as I learned afterwards) in the 
northern end of the county, had visited town, for the 
purpose of buying two bunches “ of No. 8, spun truck 
but though he found thread of numbers 7 and 9, Jim 
would not purchase, for he said he ‘‘ would either suit 
the old ’oman to a har — or else, he’d be cussed ef he’d 
git any spun truck at alL^^ So he spent the money 
intended for ‘‘ truck,” in treating to “ old rye,” rather 
than buy any other than the precise number that his 
wife wanted to fill her counterpane with. And the 
morning w^as not more than half gone, before Jim was 
in that beatific frame in which wives, “ spun truck” of 
whatever number, and in fact, res domesticce, generally, 
are welcome to go to the devil. 

Ephraim Biddle w^as also in town. He resided at 
the other extremity of the county, and had come to the 
court house to consult Squire Wind, <<to know for cer- 
tain, how high a fence a man ud have to have, afore he 
could shoot enny body’s mischeevous steer for jumpin’ 
over it.” Unfortunately, Squire Wind was engaged in 
the court room, and Eph. was compelled to fight off 
ennui with « rectified.” So while Jim Bell was imbib- 
ing his ‘‘ liquor at « Our House,’ ” Ephraim was swal- 
lowing his, on the other side of the square, at the “ Ran- 
dolph ’fectionery.” Neither of our worthies knew the 
other ; but the town boys (constituting the “ Devil’s 
Own Club”) determined, in solemn conclave, that they 
should become well enough acquainted, at Itast, to have 
a “ chunk of a fight.” And the “ town boys” k^> vV 


JIM bell’s revenge. 73 

the weak points developed in the personal history of 
both Jim and Ephraim, and with this advantage, they 
set to work. 

Jim (who was almost as deaf as a post) stood in the 
doorway of “ Our House,” holding on with one hand, 
to keep himself steady. His eye was watery, and his 
face red as a gobbler’s snout. Suddenly, a voice was 
heard, proceeding from a house across the square, in 
which the querist was concealed — 

Who stole John Strahan’s spoke-shave.^” ^ 

Another voice (from a masked battery in the neigh- 
bourhood of the ’fectionery,) responded — 

«« Jim Bell stole the spoke-shave!” 

What’s that.^” asked Jim, who thought he heard 
his own name, but wasn’t certain. 

It’s only Eph. Biddle,” replied a member of the 
town gang, who made it convenient to be by ; it’s 
only Eph. Biddle and his crowd over at the ’fectionery, 
makin’ game, and sayin’ you stole Strahan’s spoke- 
shave.” 

“ Who stole the spoke-shave resounded again, 
before Jim had collected his faculties for reply. 

Jim Bell !” answered a voice of thunder. 

“ I’ll go over, by Jupiter,” roared Bell, who was 
somewhat of a bully ; ‘‘ and w^hip the whole d — d 
crowd ; I will, by — .” 

‘‘ Hold on, Jim ! Hold on, old fellow,” said the 
amiable youth at his side — don’t go over, they’ll dou- 
ble teams on you thar ! Jist stand here and give him 
sass back. Holler out, Who marked the white-face hull ? 
ThaVll take nim foul ; I know him.” 


74 JIM bell’s revenge. 

Jim did as he was told, and echo gave back the roar 
as he yelled — 

Who marked the white-face bull ?” 

In an instant, a powerful pair of lungs, from behind 
a corner of the Court House, replied — 

“ Eph. Biddle stole that bull !” 

Wake up, Eph.” said one of the gang, as he shook 
Eph. who was dozing in a chair in the ’fectionery, — 
“ wake up, thar’s old Jim Bell, a rearin’ and snortin’ 
like a steamboat, and swearin’ that you stole Hamby’s 
white-face bull!” 

“ He canH prove it, any how,” replied Eph., with 
Christian meekness, but wincing under an accusation 
which was not now made for the first time. 

wouldn’t stand it, any how!” rejoined the friend 
of Eph. ; « for it’s a disgrace to your children, and peo- 
ple will believe the thing, ef you don’t say nothin’ to it. 
Holler out ‘ Who stole the spoke-shave V ” 

I’ll be derned if I don’t,” said Eph., who preferred 
that mode of retaliating to a more decisive one ; and 
staggering to the door, he bawled out — 

‘‘ Who stole the spoke-shave ?” 

And then, at the instance of his amiable town friend, 
he replied to his own question, so that he might have 
been heard half a mile — 

“ Jim Bell stole the spoke-shave !” 

Stand up to him, Eph. ! — that’s right! — every one 
of the town fellows is with you! Give it to him!” 
said the town boy. 

‘‘ What’s that that fellow hollered about me asked 
Jim Bell, putting his hand to his ear, after the manner 
of deaf people. 


JIM bell’s revenge. 


75 


« Nothin’,” responded one of the virtuous youth, who 
by this time surrounded him ; « nothin’, only that you 
stole Strahan’s spoke-shave! Give him Jesse, now, 
about the bull — tell him” — here the youngster whis- 
pered earnestly to Jim. 

Look here 1” thundered Bell, — « you triflin’, bull- 
stealin’ rogue of creation — do you want to hear what 
you said when they whipped you about that bull- 
beef.?” 

“ Let’s have it! Let’s have it!” shouted the town- 
boys. 

«« Why, he said (as he was puttin’ on his shirt), that 
if he could always pay for good, fat beef, that easy, 
his family should never suffer !” 

The town-boys were in perfect ecstacies, and yelled 
loudly. Jim himself felt a little triumphant, and slap- 
ping his hands against his sides, in imitation of a 
rooster, he very gallinaceously emitted a 

CoCK-A-DOODLE-DOO ! 

« Ef I was to act out my human feelins’,” sung out 
Eph., who just then remembered that he was a member 
of the Hard-shell Baptist church ; «« ef I was to act out 
my human feelins. I’d come over thar, and wear you 
out, afore a cat could lick her tail !” 

« What’s that he said .?” asked Jim, with his hand to 
his ear; and upon being informed, immediately re- 
joined — « Ef you can’t act out your human feelins, act 
out your hrute feelins — your hull feelins !” 

Shouts of loudest merriment from the crowd inter- 
rupted Jim’s reply, and the town-boys began to “ hus- 
tle” their victims closer together; «« Ante up, Jim’” 
shouted the ardent friends of that individual — “ante 
221 


76 


JIM bell’s revenge. 


up to him, old fellow — we are with you!” Don’t 
be afraid, Eph. ! — talk to him ! — you can’t be hurt in 
this crowd 1” Such were the exclamations of encou- 
ragement with which the boys shoved Jim and Eph. 
towards each other ; and really the expected combat- 
ants had made up their minds, each that he would 
“ pitch into” the other — certain, respectively, that such 
warm and disinterested friends would prevent their 
being seriously damaged. 

Just at this juncture, the sheriff, who had been sent 
by the court to quell the tumult, approached with rapid 
strides. Eph., in a panic, started off at full speed. 

« Thar goes the Bull I” shouted one. 

« Don’t he run like a cow suggested another. 

And with that, Jim and his friends started after Eph. 
The sheriff, satisfied with having driven the crowd to a 
greater distance from the couj:t-house, returned to his 
duties in court. 

The mischievous rascals who had got up the fun be- 
tween Jim and Eph., were determined that the affair 
should not go off without a fight ; so the friends of 
each plied him with whiskey, insisting that honour im- 
peratively demanded that he should fight, and declaring 
that he would find his antagonist a mere nothing to 
whip. Exhilarated by the liquor, warmed by the words 
of their friends, Jim and Eph. decided that a pitched 
battle should decide the matter. But where to fight ? 
Court was in session — it would not do to leave town — 
friends ought to be at hand. Here was a difficulty ; 
but at length Tom Culbreath suggested that Hudgins 
had a prime cellar under his grocery, and that they 
could take possession of it, and have their fight as pri- 


JIM bell’s revenge. 


7T 


vately as they pleased. Accordingly to the cellar all 
hands repaired, and Jim and Eph. were hurried down 
the steps, and in a trice the doors were closed over 
them. As soon as this was done, one of the boys 
roared out to them, that they “ should never come outen 
thar till one or t’other hollered, even ef the day of judg- 
ment come fust!” 

The crowd staid at the cellar-door long enough to 
ascertain that the incarcerated had gone to work to 
earn their emancipation. 

It was some time after noon when I next saw Jim. 
He came to my room, his left hand wrapped in a red 
cotton handkerchief, and resting in the palm of his 
right. 

‘‘ Are you the slissiter?” asked Jim. 

Yes.” 

Well, I want you to present me and Ephraim Bid- 
dle for a ’fray.” 

For an affray } Maybe you only want him indicted 
for an assault and battery 

“ Never mind ; I know what I’m after — we font 
willin’ly by agreement, in towm, to-day — I know all 
about it. Ain’t been indicted seven times in Georgy, 
without lamin’ wTat a ’fray is. We font this mornin’, 
and want the grand jury to go right to work on us, so’s 
I kin git the case tried this settin’ of the court.” 

“ Hadn’t you better wait ?” I suggested; perhaps 
no one will take the trouble to bring the matter to the 
attention of the grand jury, and so you may escape.” 

“ That’s just what I don’t want to happen,” replied 
Jim, as he took off the handkerchief, and commenced 
blowing his hand. He’s tuk advantige of me, and 


78 


JIM bell’s revenge. 


chawed up my thumb and half my hand, and he shall 
suffer for it, ef I have to pay some myself!” 

As Mr. BelPs deafness made it very unpleasant to 
keep up a conversation with him, I told him to go 
ahead,” and tell his whole story at once, which he did 
very nearly as follows : — 

“ I come to town, ’squire, to git some No. 8 spun 
truck for my wife, but I couldn’t find nothin’ but 7’s 
and 9’s ; and I’d jist a-died afore I’d got enny but jist 
what the old woman sent for. So I turned in to have 
a little spree, and hadn’t got more’n three or four 
drinks at the outside, when this blasted rascal, Eph. 
Biddle, begins to holler at me that I’d stole Strahan’s 
spoke-shave — of which twelve men in the state of 
Georgy said I warn’t guilty. Well, I was smartly tore 
up in my mind about it, when a youngster, that seemed 
mighty friendly to me — I will say it for this town, there’s 
as many friendly people here as I ever seed, for they 
0.11 took sides, other for me or Eph. Biddle — he seemed 
quite friendly to me, the youngster did, and told me 
that Eph. Biddle had stole a white-face bull, himself. 
I peartened up then, and gin him as good as he sent, 
mind, I tell you. So one word brought on another, and 
at last, our friends agreed we should fight it out in 
Hudgins’ cellar. I tell you this is a friendly town, for 
I never had more friends in a fight nowhar, and ’twas 
the same way with Eph. And so we did ; we both 
went down into the cellar, pretty groggy, and as the 
crowd, and my friends in particular, wanted the fight 
over, I feathered in on him as soon as I found whar he 
was. We both come to the ground — me on top, but 
somehow he had contrived to get this poor thumb in his 


JIM bell’s revenge. 


79 


mouth, and I tell you I thought heaven and yearth was 
a-comin’ together ever 3 ;,time he mended his holt. It 
hurt awful, but I begun to sarch for a soft place in his 
head with my other thumb, and sure enough, it slipped 
into his right eye, and so I give it the Georgy set, and 
then brought a raunchy and commenced feelin^ for the 
strings ! But thar warn’t no strings, nor no eye thar ; 
so I run my thumb in agin, and ses I, better luck next 
time; and with that I fetched another raunch, and 
begun to feel for the strings agin. No eye agin ! Then, 
ses I, ef there’s an eye in that socket. I’ll fetch it this 
time — so I fixed everything pertickler, by the old 
Georgy rule^ and fetched another raunch — but it didn’t 
come, nor never did! Thar was no chance to git at 
his t’other eye, the way he was layin’, and thar I had 
to fool at that same one better’n a hour, and he a chaw- 
in’ my hand to a mummy all the time. And last of 
all, ’squire, 1 had to holler '^'* — 

“ You bleated — did you ?” 

« I tell you it had to come ! I never should ’a hol- 
lered — leastways, he’d ’a told the news fust, ef he 
hadn’t a played it cussed foul on me. You see whar I 
was ’a gougin’, thar warrCt no eye, nor hadn’t been for 
many a day — it was gouged out ten years ago^ in Georgy ! 
So, ’squire, I want the law run agin us both, and I’ll 
see ef the one-eyed rascal can play any advantages in 
that game. 

Of course I complied with the reasonable request of 
Mr. Bell, and he and Eph. were bound over for trial, 
to the next term. 


MBS. JOHNSON’S POST OFFICE CASE. 


« Well, ’squire, I’ve found you at last, and I’m migh- 
ty glad on it,” exclaimed fat Mrs. Johnson, as she burst 
into my room, on the morning of the first day of the 
term at chambers. I’m powerful glad to find ye, for 
I’ve got a case agin a feller, and I want it fetched right 
up in court, so’s I can go home agin !” 

« What sort of a case, Mrs. Johnson 

« It’s a case,” replied the old woman, as she scooped 
wdth her pipe among the dying embers on the hearth ; 

it’s a case ! and one that’ll put them as is in it, in the 
penitentiary — ’cordin’ to my notion.” 

<< Anybody been beating you.'^” 

The widow expressed disdain with her eyes, and 
gave several emphatic, short sucks at her pipe, thereby 
giving the most contemptuous negative to my question. 

« What is it, then.^ anything happened to the gals.^” 
I asked, smiling. 

cc My gals can take care o’ themselves,” she said, 
surlily. 

«« What is it, then } I shall have to go into the grand 
jury, directly, and you must make haste.” 

‘‘The grand jury.?” she asked, stooping to put more 
ashes in her pipe. 

“ Yes, the grand jury.” 


( 80 ) 


MRS. Johnson’s post office case. 81 

“ The grand jury — well, Jeemes White’s on the 
grand jury, ain’t he ? I know him mighty well.” 

“ You must hurry, Mrs. Johnson ; I am very busy 
to-day. What is your case 

Well, well ! You know my Patsey 
“ Yes, I believe so.” 

‘‘ Her as married William Segroves, over in Georgy. 
Well, you see she was ailin’ smartly last month, and 
she know’d in reason I’d like to hear from her, so she 
gets Segroves to write me a letter. Segroves is a pow- 
erful good scribe, and there’s mighty few better larnt 
men any whar ; she gits Segroves, sure enough, to write 
me a letter, tellin’ all about her ailment, which the 
doctors said it was the milk-leg?'* 

“ The grand jury wants the s’lic’tur!” said an officer, 
putting his head in at the door. 

«« Hurry, Mrs. Johnson — what is your case 
« To be sure ! Well, Segroves he writ the letter, and 
put it in the post office at Cave Creek.” 

Well, well!” 

And now, ’squire, let me tell you. My t’other 
daughter, Betsey, that married Cullum, and w’ent to 
Texas, she writ a letter to me, and put it into the Apple 
Orchard post office, in Houston county, on the very day 
week arter Segroves dropt his’n — or raither Patsey ’s — 
at Cave Creek ; and you see,” — 

« Go on, Mrs. Johnson ; I can’t stay here much 
longer.” 

<«In a minit,” replied Mrs. Johnson, as she reple- 
nished her pipe. “ And sure enough, Cullum’s letter 
come as straight as could be, and I got it at Poplar 
Valley, last Wednesday was a week, and Segroves’s 


82 MRS. JOHNSON’S POST OFFICE CASE. 

ain’t came yet — leastways Pve never seen it! J^ow 
tharV"^ 

« Your case, if you please, my dear madam !” 

My case ?” 

«Yes.” 

^^AirCt I told you my case 

“ Great Heavens ! woman, is this your case ?” and 
snatching up my hat, I hurried out of the room, exclaim- 
ing, as I did so, “ go to Jacob Collamer with your post 
office complaints!” 

Jacob — who did he say?” queried the old lady of 
a man that entered at the moment — « Jacob — Jacob — 
whar does this Jacob Cumberlin live ? May be, he’s 
the Jestes of the Pease for the Town Beat. I’ll go ’cross 
to the store and ax.” 


A FAIK OFFENDEK.' 


There is an Alabama statute cumulative of the se- 
venth section of the Decalogue. It does not go to 
quite the same extent that the commandment does, but 
only inhibits the «« living^'* in that offence which the 
Scripture enactment interdicts entirely. Indictments 
for this misdemeanor are not unfrequent in any of the 
counties of my circuit, and in one or two of them they 
constitute the leading feature of the state docket. The 
male and female offenders are paired off generally in 
the bills, and the cases are invariably well defended. 
Here is a fair specimen of an entry of one of these 
cases on the trial docket : 


Solicitor for the State. 

Grimes for deft. — Smith ; Wumble, 
Bright, Bingham, Pip & Snip, Vesey, 
Jr., and Pipes, for deft., — Fanny 
Jones. 


The State 

V. 

A. &F. 

John Smith, 
and 

Fanny Jones. 

The youngsters of the bar are always enthusiastically 
in” for the lady in the case. And as their services 
are never otherwise given than in pure charity^ the 
generous fellows deserve immense credit for their dis- 
interestedness. It almost always happens, however, 
that the « defence” does not go to the “ merits” of the 


84 


A FAIR OFFENDER. 


case. If the indictment is not demurrable, thp entire 
energies of the lady defendant’s numerous and mag- 
nanimous counsel are directed to begging, quizzing, 
blarneying, or bamboozling the solicitor into entering 
a nolle prosequi as to their client. This, though, has 
been “ tried on” so often, that it has become somewhat 
difficult to succeed in it. Extra ingenuity is brought 
into requisition to « rope in” the state’s representative. 
The latest attempt of the sort occasioned a scene some- 
w^hat as follows: 

’Squire Wheat told me to come and see you, ’bout 
my case,” said a rather pretty girl to me, as she took a 
seat in the office, one day, during court. 

«« Ah ! — your case ; well, wJmt sort of a case is it.^”’ 
My name’s Betsy Smith,” she replied, evasively. 

‘‘Well, Miss Betsy, if your case is a state case, tell 
me what sort of a one it is ; I havn’t the docket here, 
and we’ll talk about it.” 

Betsy dodged behind the wild turkey-tail which she 
carried by way of a fan, and then dodged out for a mo- 
ment, to exhibit a pair of pouting lips and angry 
glancing eyes. “I think you ought to know,” she 
said — “ it’s your business. I suppose it’s some badness 
they’ve sworn agin me” — and then she again retired 
behind the fan for a second, but immediately emerged 
and commenced biting the tips of the feathers. 

“You say Sam Wheat sent you to me. Is he your 
lawyer 

“Yes, he’s my lawyer, and I wanted him to come 
himself, but he said I must come, for you would be 
certain to do as I wanted you to ; but I don’t know 



“ Detsy (JoUged behind tlie wi.d turkey-tail which she carried by way of a fan ” — 

Ptige 84 . 








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A FAIR OFFENDER. 85 

how it’ll be. I wish people could ’tend to their own 
business !” 

But, Miss Betsy, what is your case ? Have you 
been beating anybody a little } Or, perhaps — ” 

“No, tain’t that! It’s ’bout me and John Buce. 
’Squire Wheat said you’d be sure to throw it outer 
court, for he never knowed a s’lisitor that wouldn’t 
take a gal’s part if she come to him herself. So you 
see that’s the reason I come.” 

“ Well, Miss Betsy,” I replied, “ that is a weakness 
most solicitors have ; but unless you tell me what 
you’ve been doing, or are charged with doing, I can’t 
tell you what I can do for you.” The truth is, I had 
some faint misgivings of the character of Betsy’s 
offence, but there is nothing like bringing one’s female 
friends to the confessional. 

“’Squire, can’t you guess queried Betsy, as she 
nibbled the turkey-feathers. 

“ No, I can’t — for I can’t imagine that a pretty girl 
like yourself should have committed any sin worthy of 
a grand jury’s attention.” 

“ Pshaw, now ! — pretty girls ain’t no more than 
other people. But, ef you must know” — here the 
young lady crammed half the turkey-tail in her mouth, 
and blushed very deeply — “ ef you must know, me 
AND John Buce ain’t married ! Thar ! it’s out now !” 

“ You and John Buce ain’t married ! Why, Miss 
Betsy, there’s no law that I know of, requiring you and 
John Buce to marry ; and the fact is, that unless John 
is a devilish clever, good-looking fellow, he don’t 
deserve such luck!” 

“ Lord-a-massey, ’Squire, how you talk ! Looks like 


80 


A FAIR OFFENDER. 


you mout understand me, ef you would. I tell you, 
me and John Buce ain^t married — and we oughter been, 
long ago !” 

As Betsy hurriedly uttered these last emphatic words, 
she hid her face and hands in her apron, and com- 
menced sobbing very energetically. The upshot of it 
was, that I told Miss Betsy, in the words of Scripture, 
to go “ and sin no more.” 


A RIDE WITH OLD KIT KUNCKER; 

BEING PART THIRD OF ‘‘TAKING THE CENSUS.” 

Those who have done us the honour of reading oui 
stories about « Taking the Census” — a duty we per- 
formed in the year 1840, in the county of Tallapoosa — 
will probably recollect that our old friend Kit Kuncker, 
as he put us to bed on the night of the big frolic at his 
house, exacted a promise that we would visit him 
again, shortly thereafter; promising us, on his part, 
that he would ride all over the settlement with us, and 
more especially, that he would go with us to the house 
of Jim Kent, whose sister. Beck, was so ugly <«that 
the flies wouldn’t light on her face,” and about whose 
going to mill, he assured me, there was a very pleasant 
story to be told. 

Poor old Kit ! But the other day we saw him — and 
how altered by the lapse of a few years ! His head 
has become white ; his figure more bent ; and his 
laughing old face — merry still ! — was furrowed with an 
hundred additional wrinkles. His eye, too, was dull — 
had lost the twinkle that used so mischievously to light 
up his countenance. And then, too, he walked with a 
staff, and when he went to mount «« Fiddler Bill,” he 
said, Help me, ’Squire,” instead of vaulting into the 


88 


A RIDE WITH OLD KIT KUNCKER. 


saddle as of yore ! Thank you, ’Squire. God bless 
your Union heart — old Hickory and the Union for ever ! 
I’m gittin’ old now, ’Squire, and can’t git about, like 
I used to” — the old man sighed — “ Fiddler Bill is old, 
too, — notice how gray his face is — we’re all gittin’ old 
— yer Aunt Hetty as well’s the rest ; and, God bless 
yer soul, ’Squire,” (here the old man warmed into ani- 
mation,) i^she^s uglier than ever — uglier than the 
DEVIL — he! he! ya! ya! It’s wuth while coming, jist 
to take a look at her ! With that old long bonnet on” 
— here the old fellow bent down on his horse’s neck, 
in a paroxysm of laughter — “he! he! hea! ya! ya! 
and her mouth skrootched up, ya! ya! the go-to-meet- 
in’ w^ay ; I’ll be cust ef she ain’t so bad to look at, it’s 
enuff to fotch sickness in the family ! But,” he added, 
wiping the tears from his eyes, “ ’Sqflire, I’m old now, 
yer Aunt Hetty’s old, and Fiddler Bill is old — all old ! 
old! old! Ah, me!” 

But we are digressing. It was of our Ride with old 
Kit, in 1840, that we began to write — and not of his 
chattering in 1849. 

We went to old Kit’s house on the day appointed, at 
a very early hour, and found the old fellow waiting for 
us, with “ Fiddler Bill” hitched at the gate. 

“You can’t see yer Aunt Hetty, ’Squire,” he said, 
“ for she’s laid up with a pain in her jaw. It’s swelled 
mighty bad, enny how, and makes her look so much 
better, ’twouldn’t be no curiosity to see her now — so 
we may as well ride. Another time when she’s at her- 
self — and her « ugly’ out in full bloom, I’ll show her 
to you — he ! he ! yah ! That bonnet o’ hern, too, hit’s 
some. ’Tain’t like nothin’ ever growed, except the 


A KIDE WITH OLD KIT KUNCKER. 89 

baskets the Injin wimmin makes to tote their young 
ones in !” And the old rascal laughed at his wife and 
her bonnet, until the woods rang again. 

Walking our horses leisurely along the road leading 
down the creek to the river, Uncle Kit, tapping his 
steed lightly across the neck with his switch, began, 
as he had promised, to tell us how he obtained him. 

“ You see, ’squire, me and my Jim was a haulin’ a 
load of whiskey up from Wetumpky, in the spring of 
’36, and we had a mighty dull old horse under the sad- 
dle. The like of him never was on the yeth for hard 
trottin’. He was powerful hard. You’ve set and 
watched a saw-mill gate jerk up and down, havn’t 
you ? — up and down, up and down, like it was goin’ 
into fits ? Well, that was his motion adzactly. See 
Jim, one day, < Daddy I’m gwine to swop « old Cuss 
off, fust chance I git.’ Ses I, ‘Nobody’s fool enough 
to give you anything better’n an old cow for him.’ 
Ses he, ‘ You’ll see.’ Well ’twarn’t long afore we 
ketcht up with a traveller — it was in the piney woods 
’twixt Oakfuskee and Dudleyville — walkin’ and leadin’ 
his horse, which was Fiddler Bill. I’ll tell you ’squire,” 
— old Kit raised his voice and gesticulated vehemently 
— “ he was a horse then — none o’ your little grays — as 
Homer Hinds ses — but a reg’lar horse, with head and 
legs like a deer, a body like a barrel, and put up like a 
jack-screw. He wos jist risin’ four year old, fat, and 
hilt his head like the Queen of Shehy ! 

“ So Jim bantered the stranger purty quick for a swap 
— but fust we found out he was walkin’ bekase he was 
afeard of his horse. He was a Norrud raised man and 
talked mighty proper — he said his horse was ‘ very rest- 


90 


A RIDE WITH OLD KIT KUNCKER. 


ed’ — which you might see he had been layin’ by corn 
and fodder for some time — and had throwed him and 
disculpated his shoulder a’ most ! Then he axed us 
about the Injuns — this was jist afore the infernal devils 
began their devilment, and the thing had leaked out 
and was talked of, all over the country — and Jim seein’ 
he was afeared of them too, let on like they was mighty 
thick and hostile in them woods. 

« Stranger,’ says he, « what would you do ef you 
was to see a red-skin peepin’ from behind that big pine 
yonder — and you afeard o’ your horse !’ 

« ‘ God only knows,’ ses the Yanky. 

‘ Well now ni tell you,’ ses Jim, ‘ thar'*s a horse 
under that saddle’ — p’intin’ to < old Cuss’ — ‘ that could 
take you outen the way like goose-grease ! How’ll you 
trade ?’ 

. “ The Yanky let on like he tho’t his horse was the 
most vallyble, but Jim out-talked him to deth. He 
praised old Cuss, ’twell I had to go behind the wagin 
and laugh. Bime^by ses he, ‘ ain’t that a Injun holler 
and with that the stranger looked white, and axed Jim 
how he'^d trade ? 

“ « You must give me ten dollars to boot,’ ses Jim. 

«« < But my horse is the most vallyble,’ ses the Yanky. 

«« « He ain’t half-broke,’ ses Jim, « and I’d be most 
afeard to ride him — let’s see !’ 

« With that Jim gits on the roan, and tetched him in 
the flank with the heel that was on t’other side from the 
stranger, and the horse bein’ naterally playful, you see, 
went to kickin’ up and rearin’ and squealin’ ; Jim hold- 
in’ on to the mane, and the Yanky hollerin’ « wo ! wo ’’ 
Presently Jim come to the ground, ca-whop 1 And with 


A RIDE WITH OLD KIT KUNCKER. 91 

that he riz from the ground, complainin’ mightly ’bout 
his side, and ’lowed he wouldn’t have the horse on no 
terms — that ef the Injuns was to come on us of a sud- 
den, we shouldn’t have but one horse that could be rid ; 
and then he axed me ef I had enny opydildock in the 
wagin box, that lie could rub his side with ! he ! he ! 
Jim is a rascal, that’s a fac, but I can’t tell whar he got 
it from, onless it’s a judgemeTi^ on his mammy for bein’ 
so cussed ugly ! yah ! yah ! 

Sein’ the stranger was aggravated ’bout the Injuns, 
I draps in then, myself, and tells him I’d give him ‘ old 
Cuss,’ even drag, for the roan ; and we made the trade 
mighty quick, for he had the Injun ager ’twell his eyes 
was big as sassers! Well, we changed saddles and 
bridles, and while I was gearin’ up Fiddler Bill, he 
couldn’t — but ’squire, what do you reckon it was he 
couldn’t do ?” 

Can’t guess,” w^e replied. 

Well, bust me wide open, ef ke knowed how to put 
the bridle on his horse ! I’ve seen men that was ig’nant, 
before, but he was the wust off with it I ever seed. He 
didn’t know whether the bits went behind the years, or 
into the mouth — blamed ef he did ! 

Finally, at last, he got mounted, and jogged off — 
you remember what I told you ’bout the saw-mill gate 
— well that’s the way old Cuss rattled his buttons. He 
was the most lonesome-looJdn^ critter, a-settin’ on that 
old horse, with his new saddle and bridle, that ever 1 
seed ! As soon as he got cleverly out o’ sight, Jim gin 
two or three Injun whoops, and people did say in Dud- 
leyville, whar he stopped that night, that he got thar in 
nighty reasonable, good time! So that’s the way, 
222 


92 A KIDE WITH OLD KIT KUNCKER. 

’squire, I come by Fiddler Bill aint it Bill ?” 

whereupon Fiddler pricked up his ears, but said 
nothing. 

About this time, we arrived at a mean-looking shan- 
ty, and calling, were answered by a man who came out 
to us. It was Jim Blake. 

“ Here’s the ^e^mVtaker,” said Uncle Kit. 

“ D — n the ^msw-taker,” was the blunt reply. 

«« Don’t say that, Jim,” returned Uncle Kit ; “ he’s a 
good little Union ’squire Mr. Van Buren’s sent round to 
take ’count of the cloth and chickens, jist to see ef the 
wimmin’s sprightly.” 

“ I don’t care a dried-apple d — n, for him nor Mr. 
Van Buren nother,” said Mr. Blake ; Mr. Van Buren 
is gittin too cussed smart, enny way — my opinion is, 
he’s a measly hog .”’ 

Son ! son 1” exclaimed old Kit, deprecatingly, 
“ don’t talk that way. Van Buren’s the Union Presi- 
dent, and Old Hickory says he’ll do !” 

“ I don’t care who says he’ll do — I’m gwine to vote 
for Harrison — see ef I don’t !” 

Uncle Kit was struck dumb, and after obtaining a 
list of the family with much difficulty, we rode away. 

“ ’Squire,” said the old man, after a long silence, 

that fellow’s talk goes to my heart. Jl little more 
and he^d a cussed old Hickory ! and ef he had, by the 
God that made me, I’d a tore his liver out !” Old Kit 
was highly excited — he continued — “ to think that a 
boy I’ve raised in a manner, that I’ve told all about old 
Hickory and the Union and New Orleens and the Horse 
Shoe, should ’a turned round and come to be a JVulliJl- 


A RIDE WITH OLD KIT KUNCKER. 93 

er ! Aint thar no way” — he asked, as if musing — « we 
could fix lo git that poor fool boy straight agin ?” 

We soon got into the thickest of the Union Creek set- 
tlement, and from house to house, through the Smiths j 
the Hearns, the Folsoms, the Narons, the Dabbses and 
the Rollinses, Uncle Kit carried us with a speed that 
was most gratifying. He joked the old women, kissed 
the girls and fondled the children ; and where the slight- 
est indisposition was manifested to give the desired 
information, he settled the difficulty at once, by the 
magic words, “ Union — old Hickory.” 

It’s a blessed thing, ’squire,” he said, << to have a 
man’s friends all of the right sort. Here’s my people 
that I brought from Georgy — cuss that boy Blake, I’ll 
give him a reg’lar talk, next Sunday ; and ef that don’t 
do I’ll make his wife quit him — all my people, as I was 
sayin’, that love the Union and vote like one man ! I 
tell you, it’s old Union Crick that keeps the Nullifiers 
down in Tallapoosy !” 

As old Kit was indulging in these pleasant reflec- 
tions and remarks, we reached the ford of the creek, 
where we were to cross to get into the river settlement. 

« Right here,” said the old man, as we reached the 
middle of the stream, ‘‘ was where Becky Kent ketched 
it ; but she lives right up thar, a piece, and I’ll see ef 
I can’t devil her into tollin’ you ’bout it. She’s as old 
and as ugly — mighty nigh — as yer Aunt Hetty ; bu* 
she has a mighty notion of courtin’, and ef you’ll sidle 
up to her, it’ll please her so well, her tongue will git to 
goin’, and she couldn’t hold that story back ef she 
wanted to.” 

A very few minutes brought us to the residence of 


94 A KIDE WITH OLD KIT KUNCKER. 

Mr. James Kent, the brother of the spinster Becky. 
Unfortunately — or perhaps fortunately for our heart — 
the presiding goddess was not at home ; and having 
made the proper entries on our books, from information 
furnished by Mr. Kent, we again mounted and pursued 
our way. 

“ Did you see,” asked Uncle Kit, «« that old snufF- 
bottle and them nasty breshes, stickin’ in the cracks of 
the logs? Well, it’s on the ’count of sich, that Becky 
got in the crick, that time. I’ll tell you ’bout it my- 
self, ’long as we didn’t see her. 

“ See, I had allers ’cused Becky of snuff, but the 
lyin’ heifer never would own to it. So one day, as I 
was ridin’ ’long the road, t’other side of the crick, I 
hearn a noise betwixt the bray of the jack and the 
squeal of the pea-fowl, and in a minit I knowed it was 
somebody in distress — so I hurried on. When I got to 
the crick, what should it be but scrawny Becky Kent, 
settin’ on a bag o’ corn, on her old blind horse, and 
him a standin’ stock-still in the middle of the ford.” 

“ Becky, ses I, what in natur are you doin’ thar ? 
Why don’t you come along out ?” 

“ Ses she, I canH — don’t you see how I’m fixed ?” 

“ Then I looked more pertickler, and seed how ’twas. 
The horse had stopped to drink, and Becky had let go 
the bridle, and when she tried to ^it it agin, the bag 
slipped furder over to the side she warrCt a settin’ on — 
so when I got thar, she had let all go hut the bag, and 
she was a settin’ on one eend o’ that, loanin’ forward, 
and with her hands behind her, one to each side o’ the 
bag, a’ pullin’ agin the weight of the big eend, ’twell 
her face was as red as a gobbler’s snout. ’Twas a 



« —Still she liilt her prip with both hands!- and the next thinp, somethin' riz in the 
air. til e a small cloud o f calico and dry corn-stall s J*age 05. 





A RIDE WITH OLD KIT KUNCKER. 


95 


reg’Iar dead strain — the weight of Beck and the little 
eend of the bag, agin the hig eend — and, I tell you, she 
had to lean well forward to keep from goin’ over back- 
wards !” 

‘«I bulged into the crick and got purty close to 
Becky ; but it was so funny, I couldn’t fetch myself to 
help her, but tho’t Pd devil hur a little, as she set. So 
ses I, making a fine bow, 

My honey, my love, 

My turkle dove, 

Will you take it amiss, 

Ef I give you a kiss 

« But I hadn’t no idee of kissin’ of her — but only 
w^anted to devil her a little. At last, I seen an old 
mustard-bottle stickin’ from out her bosom ; and ses I, 
Miss Becky, will you give your Uncle Kit a pinch of 
snuff? Ses she, help me, for the Lord’s sake — Pm 
mighty nigh gin out — and, ’Squire, she was on a tre- 
menjus strain ! But I tho’t Pd plague her some ; and 
after cutting of some few shines, I made a motion to 
snatch at the bottle o’ snuff! She gin a little jerk back I 
— the Ug eend got a start I — still she hilt her grip with 
both hands ! — and the next thing, somethin? riz in the 
air, like a small cloud of calico and dry corn-stalks ! — 
and the durndest ca-slosh on t’other side o’ the horse, 
that ever you heerd I A — waugh I What sloshii? /” 

‘‘Horraw, Becky! rise, gall! I was lookin’ t’other 
way ! ses l^for I knowed she was ^shamed! I laughed, 
however, and she mighty nigh cussed !” 

Oh, you’re a sw^eet little mare-maid now, ses I.” 

<< You’re a drotted old hog, ses she.” 

«My honey, my love, my turkle-dove, don’t git mad 


96 


A RIDE WITH OLD KIT KUNCKER. 


with yer Uncle Kit, ses I ; but it all wouldn’t do, and 
the heiffer never got in a good humour with me ’twell 
I met her in the road one Sunday, and persuaded her 
I was goin’ to send Jim to see her.” 

Did you send him ?” 

<«Yes, and the fust thing the fool said to her, was, 
he^d a gin his years to ’a seen her heels fly up, that time, 
in the crick ! he ! he ! yah ! yah ! That busted things 
to the devil again, and me and Becky ain’t more’n half 
friendly now !” 

After going through the entire settlement, with great 
ease and celerity — thanks to Uncle Kit’s assistance — 
we took the back-track to Mr. Kuncker’s. It was quite 
dark when we arrived. As Uncle Kit threw down our 
saddles in his porch, said he, « I didn’t tell you, 
’Squire, to-day, about how old Henry Teel larnt to 
make soap out’n sal sody, and how he sold the reseet to 
old Mrs. Spraggins, and what a devil of a paddlin’ the 
old woman gin him with the battlin’-stick, when she 
found the soap would shrink — did Well, come in, 

and we’ll take a sip of branch-water, and I’ll norate it 
to you. Hello, old woman — is yer face swelled enny 
better yet.^ — Here’s the ’Squire — the little blessed Union 
’Squire — come to see you ! Ef you can’t git out’n bed 
to come yerself, make one of the gals fetch yer old 
bonnet out — thaVW be sorrw amusemm^.' Walk in, 
’Squire, and take a seat in yer old Union Uncle’s 
house !” 


JIM WILKINS AND THE EDITORS. 


During the exciting Presidential campaign of 1844, 
there were published in a thriving village in this State, 
two political papers, which (as ’twould not be proper to 
give the real names,) we will call the “ Star” and the 
“ Gazette.” The Star” was a Democratic sheet ; 
and of course battled enthusiastically for Mr. Polk. 
The Gazette,” on the other hand, was thoroughly 
Whig, and no more — at the period to which we refer — 
doubted the election of Henry Clay, than it did the 
.shining of the sun, or any other “ fixed” physical fact. 
These two papers were edited by gentlemen of about 
the same age, and of not dissimilar temperaments. In 
fact they had, both, strong social proclivities, and were 
very good friends, nine-tenths of the time ; there being 
only an occasional interruption of good feeling, when 
something rather too spicy” appeared in the columns 
of one paper or the other. These disagreeable things, 
however, became more frequent as the political battle 
waxed hotter ; but even then, at the end of every week, 
there was a general adjustment of all personal matters 
— the boys PicJmicked, and — shall I tell it.^* generally 
got gloriously fuddled together. They both, I believe, 
do better now, but then ! ah, the headaches ! 

One Saturday afternoon, at the end of a particularly 

(97) 


98 


JIM WILKINS AND THE EDITORS. 


spicy week between the papers — the Star having spo- 
ken of the « damask cheek of its neighbour,” and the 
Gazette having retorted upon the “ Bardolphian nose” 
of the Star’s editor — the two gentlemen were seen to 
enter an establishment where sugar and water with 
the privilege^'* might be obtained in one room, and a 
game of billiards played in another. They had had, 
perchance, an explanation, in which mutual declara- 
tions of Pickwick had been made. However, they 
went in lovingly, arm in arm. 

Walking up to the bar. 

What shall it be ?” asked Star. 

« Cocktails,” said Gazette ; and cocktails it was. 

“ Here,” said Star, touching the rim of his compa- 
nion’s glass with the bottom of his own ; “ here is to 
the Freedom of the Press, whether the same advocate 
the claims of the exalted patriot James K. Polk; or 
takes ground for the embodiment of all that is ” 

“ Hold on there ! You’ll be on my toes directly,” 
exclaimed the Gazette; “drink simply to the freedom 
of the Press ; though one w’ould think it was sufficient- 
ly a free thing already, seeing how many take the papers 
without paying for them !” 

“ The freedom of the press, then !” 

“ The freedom of the press!” 

Having deposited their cocktails, our worthies agreed 
to play a game of billiards, and passing into the back- 
loom, closed and locked the glass door behind them, 
and adjusted the curtain so as to conceal themselves as 
much as possible. Abojat the same time they had done 
this, Jim Wilkins, a strong Whig, and one of the Ga- 


JIM WILKINS AND THE EDITORS. 99 

zette’s subscribers, came in to take a stirrup cup. Jim 
was already quite groggy. 

I’ll meet you on fair terms, but you shan’t have all 
advantage,” said Gazette, in a loud, excited tone. 

“ Well, let’s toss up for choice of ball,” rejoined Star, 
petulantly — “ one of us must have the broken one.” 

« What’s that.^” asked Wilkins in the bar-room, 
pricking up his ears ; “ aint that them eddyturs ?” 

“It’s no business of yours,” replied the bar-keeper 
to Jim ; “they’re only settling some private business.” 

“/if is my business,” said Jim, eagerly, and he 
pressed closely to the door, to hear more distinctly — 

it is my business !” “ Go it. Gazette ! Pm wi’ ye ! 

balls or no balls ! Sticks or knives ! Fight him enny 
way he wants to !” 

Clack-lack! went the billiard balls. 

“ Then I took you, you red-mouthed locofoco I” ex- 
claimed Gazette triumphantly. 

“ Stand up to him, my little coon!” shouted Jim — 
“them’s the licks! Hoorow for Henry Clay of Ken- 
tucky! Open the door, or I’ll bust it down! Fair 
play !” 

“ If you’ll ever leave me a cannon,^'* said Star, with 
feeling, “ I’ll give you the devil.” 

“ Cannons or pocket pistols ! Fight him enny way 
he wants to^ my crowin’ Clay-bird !” roared Jim, almost 
frenzied — “ hoop-a-diddle !” 

“ Keep still, you jackass,” said the bar-keeper ; “ they 
don’t want your interference.” 

“ You’ll run out your string before I get another lick,’' 
said Star. 

“ I’ll be 


if he ever runs,” shouted the excited 


100 JIM WILKINS AND THE EDITORS. 

Wilkins — ef he does Pll cut his throat myself. Stand 
up, my little ring tail, ’tell I git in to you.” Jim vio- 
lently shoved the door, and bar-keeper collared him ; 
whereupon, there was a considerable scuffle, Jim shout- 
ing, stick to him, little one — draw your knife — hash 
him 1” 

All this while the clacking of the balls, and the fre- 
quent violent exclamations of the players, confirmed 
Wilkins’s illusion that a fight growing out of politics, 
was going on. But he could not release himself from 
the grasp that held him !” 

At length the Gazette exclaimed : 

“I give in — whipped ! — let’s liquor!” 

The whole expression of Jim’s countenance changed 
— his struggling ceased. 

WhaVs that.?” he asked, in a low, doubting tone. 

“ Your man’s whipped,” was the reply of the bar- 
keeper, to humour the joke. 

Mr. Wilkins w’alked away from the door, and took a 
position in the middle of the room, with folded arms. 
Presently the editors came out, and instantly decanters 
and glasses were in requisition. 

As they were about to drink, Wilkins stepped up, 
and attracting the attention of Gazette — 

« Stop Jim Wilkins’s paper,” said he. 

«« Very good,” was the reply. 

Jim walked to the door and then walked back : 

Stop my paper — you understand.” 

“ Certainly. But you seem excited ; what’s to pay .?’ 

<« It’s well enough,” returned Jim, white with rage 
and indignation ; it’s well enough after alVs said and 
done for you to ax me what’s to pay ! But I can tell 


JIM WILKINS AND THE EDITORS. 


101 


you ! In the fust and fomost place, you let that feller,” 

pointing to Star, « whip you like a ! In the second 

place you hollered like a dog, and then you treated to 
git friends again ! I say, stop my paper ! I won’t read 
arter no sich a cowardly, no count, sow-pig of an eddy- 
tur!” And Jim took himself off in high dudgeon. 

‘‘ The freedom of the Press for ever!” shouted the 
Star. 

“For ever!” responded Gazette. 

And the frolic the boys held that Saturday night, was 
a regular old- fash’ on ed affair. For a month after- 
wards, you might .have squeezed brandy out of the 
pores of either, as you do the juice out of a fresh 
orange. 


COL. HAWKINS AND THE COUET. 


Some years ago, I knew an individual whose sobriquet 
was Col. Hawkins,” and who was the most perfect 
specimen of the dare-devil frontier-man, that I ever 
saw, at least in Alabama. His real name was Jim 
Fielder — to which his neighbours frequently added the 
expressive prefix Devil.” And he loas a devil, fear- 
ing neither God, man, nor beast, and if not invulnera- 
ble, possessing at least a tenacity of life that was most 
astonishing. He had been once struck down with a 
broadaxe, and his brain absolutely cloven to a consi- 
derable depth, and for several inches in length ; yet he 
made no particular difficulty of surviving, and that, too, 
with all his faculties uninjured. 

The « Colonel” being what, in his region and times, was 
called a cow-driver, had cultivated the art of equitation, 
until he and his favourite bay, whom he named He//,” 
had become a perfect centaur. No feat was too difficult for 
them. I have seen them myself do things which would 
make the gallant Col. May’s blood run cold. Hell was 
the most perfectly trained animal that I ever saw ; fol- 
lowed his master like a dog, and when the Colonel got 
drunk and lay in the road, would stand by him and 
guard him for hours. 

Col. Hawkins” used to be very fond of attending 

( 102 ) 


COL. HAWKINS AND THE COURT. 


103 


the circuit courts of his county, at which, after a time, 
he became an insufferable nuisance. The sheriffs were 
always afraid of him ; the tavern-keepers dreaded him ; 
and the judge never could get hold of him. In one of 
his mad freaks, I have seen him, while court was in 
session, mounted on <<Hell,” charge up to the steps, 
and into one door of the court-house, dash furiously 
along the aisle, and, with a tremendous leap, clear the 
steps out of the other. 

I remember well the first session at which I ever saw 
him. Court was held, temporarily, in a two-story 
wooden building; one end of which rested on the 
ground ; the other (the front) being on brick- work, or 
blocks, two or three feet high. A judge was presiding, 
whose distinguishing trait was a tyrannical petulance — 
a judicial w^asp, whose sting was ever protruding. His 
Honour, however, met his match in “ Col. Hawkins,” 
and, no doubt, thinks of him to this day with emotions 
of horror. 

For the first day or two of the court, our hero, being 
rather sober, behaved remarkably well ; but about the 
middle of the week he got bn a regular frolic, and im- 
mediately turned his attention to the disturbance of the 
court. For this purpose, he had prepared a number of 
loaves of bread, and collecting all the scraps of the 
kitchen of his tavern, he proceeded to ‘‘fort” himself 
under the court-house. His citadel was impregnable 
on one side, by reason of the house having one end on 
the ground ; and all the other approaches the Colonel 
industriously fortified by building walls of large rocks 
leaving only a single entrance, and a few port-holes 


104 COL. HAWKINS AND THE COURT. 

through which he might cast his missiles at any adven- 
turous besieger. 

Here it must be remarked, that the town was parti- 
cularly populous in the dog way — if that be not a sole- 
cism — and Jim being aware of the fact, had provided 
himself with a hunting horn, an instrument on which he 
was a most capital performer. There were in the vil- 
lage, at the time, I think, three full packs of hounds ; 
and as to the curs, though I never took thdr census, I 
can certify that they were multitudinous. 

Prepared now, at all points, the Colonel took his 
place within his ‘‘ fort,” and waited until a sound of 
bustling from above indicated that the court was trans- 
acting business. Then, toot^ toot, to4oo, to-too — toot, 
toot toot ! went his horn. 

Three several and distinct” simultaneous howls 
from different quarters of the town, responded to the 
blast ! 

Toot! toot! to-too! to-too! toot! toot! toot! 

Again three dire howls responded ; but this time they 
seemed converging to a common centre — Jim’s subcu- 
rian fortification. 

“ My God, Mr. Sheriff,” said the little tiger on the 
bench, what is all that blowing and howling about?” 

<< I s’pose,” replied the Sheriff, with a wild look, for 
he knew the Tartar he had to deal with, “ I s’pose it’s 
a comp’ny of hunters going out after deer.” 

“ Wal” — the Judge invariably sounded the e in well, 
a short — « Wal, my God ! do the hunters in this country 
hunt on the public square 

Toot ! toot ! toot ! to-to-to-to-to-to-hoot ! went Jim’s 
horn again ; and the hounds, with a multitude of their 


COL. HAWKINS AND THE COURT. 105 

half-brethren « of low degree,” having by this time 
assembled under the house, sent up a long, a loud, and 
a most deafening response. Jim then gave them all 
some bread and meat-scraps, in token of their approval. 
He then blew another blast,” and again fifty or sixty 
canine throats belched forth the hideous sounds ! 

My God ! Mr. Sheriff, I fine you ten dollars,” said 
the irritated Judge — Go and stop that noise.” 

The Sheriff went down, and having ascertained the 
strength of the Colonel’s position, endeavoured to coax 
him out. 

Come out, Jim, old fellow, and I’ll stand a treat; 
I will, by George !” 

‘‘ Toot ! toot !” was the reply ; and then the howl 
from the dogs, who began <«to let themselves out.” 

The Judge fined the first deputy, up stairs, five 
dollars, for the new attack upon his nerves. 

Several adventurous special deputies at length went 
under, to take our hero « by storm but they very soon 
returned with bruised heads and defiled clothing. Jim, 
with inimitable sang froid^ held the horn to his mouth 
with one hand, while with the other he sent his rocks 
with terrible effect at his assailants. His allies, too, 
the dogs, gave him occasional sly assistance, by nib- 
bling at the more exposed parts of the persons of the 
invaders ; and these being obliged to go upon all- 
fours,” under the house, these “attacks in the rear” 
were in the highest degree vexatious and unpunishable 
Toot! toot! toot! 

Howl ! howl ! howl ! 

The contagion spread to the crowd assembled on the 
public square, 


106 


COL. HAWKINS AND THE COUKT. 


And each — for madness ruled the hour — 

Would try his own expressive pow’r.’^ 

Yell after yell went up from the crowd ! All was 
confusion ; and as peal after peal of the odd and min- 
gled discord floated up, roar after roar of unsuppressed 
laughter shook the court-room ! 

The Judge was pale with rage. Every fibre of his 
frame trembled with excitement; but he could only 
fine — so he fined the Sheriff an hundred dollars for re- 
porting the Colonel’s fort impregnable, himself invinci- 
ble, and his forces determined to stand to him, to a dog! 
He then adjourned court, « until the nuisance could be 
abated.” 

As soon as the Colonel perceived that he had stopped 
all legal proceedings, he suspended his blasts, and 
dealt out double rations to his forces. From one of the 
port-holes in front, observing that the Judge was stroll- 
ing about on the square, and that the Sheriff was con- 
sulting with a dozen or so of friends, he watched his 
opportunity, horn in hand, he slipped out, unperceived 
except by friends, and reached his steed, which was 
tied in the bushes near by. Mounting Hell,” he 
“ blew’ a blast so loud and long,” that every hound re- 
sponded at once, and in a moment more, dashed in 
upon the square, with his followers in full cry 1 Here 
he w^ent, «« like mad,” now clearing an old woman and 
her cake-stand at a jump, and now bounding lightly 
o^’^r a group of a half dozen on a fallen log. Ye gods ! 
how the crowd scattered ! Espying the Judge, he 
dashed up to him — circled round him, in Cumanchee 
style, and blowing his horn the while, evoked the most 
hideous howls from his troop ! Round and round he 


COL. HAWKINS AND THE COURT. 107 

dashed — the judge petrified in the centre, pawed, 
mouthed, and smelt of by the hounds, and stunned — 
overpowered, by their hideous din ! Never before 
speak metaphorically) w^as the ermine so villanously 
defiled ! 

Having accomplished his purpose of ‘‘ bedeviling” a 
Judge, who had the reputation of being a martinet, 
Jim retreated^ in good order, from the square to the 
thicket at the back of the court-house. He knew what 
would follow, and fully prepared for it. He had pro- 
cured him a whiskey-barrel, minus one head, and, a foot 
or so above the bung-hole, had cut an opening about 
six inches in diameter. By small cords he had at- 
tached to the outside of the barrel two large bundles 
of fodder, a fragment of old stove-pipe, and three super- 
annuated coffee-pots. 

As soon as Jim had left the square, the Judge ordered 
the Sheriff to summon a posse^ and take him, at all 
risks — and the Sheriff instantly summoned twenty or 
thirty of the hundreds who had horses hitched on the 
square, and ordered them into line to receive his direc- 
tions. The Judge borrowed a pony, to go along and 
see his mandate executed. 

Jim, who had been watching their operations slily, as 
soon as they seemed nearly complete, blew a blast, 
mounted Hell,” and drawing the barrel up after him, 
placed it over himself ; and taking the reins through 
the hole, rode leisurely on, till in view of the Sheriff’s 
squad, when, with a loud toot, a howl from his dogs, 
the rustling of his fodder, the clangour of his coffee- 
pots, and the sonorous ^ow^-notes of his stove-pipe, he 
223 


108 


COL. HAWKINS AND THE COURT. 


charged at full speed upon the Sheriff and his posse 
comitatus ! 

Talk of May! Talk of Murat! There was never a 
charge so reckless or effective as Jim Fielder’s charge 
upon the sheriff and his squad. 

Toot ! toot ! toot ! bang ! clang ! bang ! howl ! howl ! 
howl ! and he was in their midst ! The horses of the 
squad, maddened with fright, reared and plunged, and 
either threw their riders, or dashed off with them pre- 
cipitately from the field. The horses hitched about at 
racks and trees, participated in the panic, and in five 
seconds there was a universal stampede. 

The Judge’s pony dashed off with a speed that was 
highly creditable to his short legs and Indian origin ; 
and after him the Colonel dashed, with all his dreadful 
din, in full blast ! On^ on, on ! at a killing lick ! Down, 
down the hill to the old tan-yard ! — where suddenly 
Judge and pony find a tight fit” in an ancient, but 
not inodorous vat ! 

Satisfied — almost — with his victory, our hero charged 
back to town — putting to flight everything equine, of 
which he came in view, and leaping his horse into the 
piazza of a grocery, pitched his barrel through the win- 
dow upon the head, and other frangible property of the 
proprietor — like lightning passed in at one door and out 
at another — and whooping at the top of his voice, rode 
furiously out of town. 


THE EKASIYE SOAP MAN. 


The itinerant fellows who frequent our village.>, dur- 
ing the sessions of the Courts, and on all other occa- 
sions of popular assembling — vending their small 
wares, a la the Razor-Strop man — are sometimes very 
amusing. We noticed one of ’em, last week, crying 
his erasive soap to as simple a crowd as we have observed 
in some time. He was a sharp-eyed fellow, with a 
sanctified look, black whiskers, and a still blacker and 
enormous straw hat. 

“ Gentlemen,” he said, or rather sang — « gentlemen, 
I offer you a splendid article, a superb article, an incom- 
parable article — magical, radical, tragical article!” 
[Here he displayed a cake of his soap.] « Magical, 
radical, tragical, erasive soap ! Yes, in its effects upon 
its inventor most tragical I Shall I tell you how } It 
was invented by a celebrated French chemist, after 
twenty years of toil, labour and privation. In just fifteen 
minutes, two seconds and a half after the discovery, he 
fell into the arms of death, ^nd his name became im- 
mortal I You can draw your own conclusions, gentle- 
men ! 

“ Magical, radical, tragical, e-ra-sive soap ! Dime 
a cake! Hand me the money! — served me right — 
there’s the soap ! Yes, there’s a man has got a cake of 


no 


THE ERASIVE BOAP MAN. 


the incomparable, inappreciable, infallible, invaluable, 
magical, radical, tragical, e-ra-sive soap ! 

“ Gentleman, you’d open your eyes, if I were to tell 
you half the wonders performed by this in-com-pa-rable 
article. — It cleans oil-spots, removes stains, hides dirt, 
brightens good colours and obliterates ugly ones! — 
such is the virtue of the all-healing, never-failing, spot- 
removing, beauty-restoring, health-giving, magical, ra- 
dical, tragical, e-ra-sive Soap!” The vender wiped 
his brow, heaved a sigh, and recommenced, standing 
at ease against a piazza-post. 

Why, gentlemen, when I first became acquainted 
with this inextollable gift of divine Providence to err- 
ing man, I had an obstruction of the vocal organs, an 
impediment of speech, that bid fair to destroy the hopes 
of the fond parents who intended me for the bar or the 
pulpit. I was tongue-tied — but I came across this pre- 
cious compound — swallowed just half an ounce, and 
ever since, to the satisfaction of my parents, myself, 
and an assembled world, I have been volubly, rapidly, 
and successfully, interminably, unremittingly, most 
eloquently, sounding the praises of the incomparable, 
infallible, inimitable, inappreciable, never-failing, all- 
healing, spot-removing, beauty-restoring, magical, ra- 
dical, tragical, erasive soap ! 

‘‘ Ah, gentlemen, a world without it would be 
naught! It takes the stains from your breeches, the 
spots from your coat, removes the dirt, and diffuses a 
general cheerfulness over the character of the whole 
outer man! True, gentlemen, I’ve worn the forefinger 
of my right-hand to the first joint, in illustrating the 
efficacy of this ineffable compound ; but I hold that the 


THE ERASIVE SOAP MAN. 


Ill 


forefinger of one man — yea, or the forefinger of ten 
MEN — are as nothing when compared with the peace 
and welfare of society and the world ! 

‘‘ Oh, magical Soap ! oh, radical Soap ! oh, tragical 
Soap ! What wonders thou dost perform ! The fright- 
ened locomotive leaves its track {as it were) on thy ap- 
proach ! The telegraphic wires tremble and are dumb 
in thy presence ! 

“ Why, gentlemen, it clears the complexion of a 
nigger, and makes a curly-headed man’s hair straight ! 
It removes the stains from the breeches and the 
spots from your coats — in like manner, it purifies the 
conscience and brightens the character! If you’re 
a little dishonest or dirty, try it ! If your reputation or 
clothing is a little smutted. I’ll warrant it! For ladies 
whose slips — I mean these little brown, yellow, white, 
blue, and many-coloured slippers — have become soiled, 
it is the only cure, panacea, medicamentum, vade- 
mecum, in all globular creation. Then come up, tum- 
ble up, run up, and jump up, like Hung’ry patriots, and 
buy my incomparable, infallible, ineffable, inapprecia- 
ble, coat-preserving, beauty-restoring, dirt-removing, 
speech-improving, character-polishing, virtue-impart- 
ing, all-healing, never-failing, magical, radical, tragi- 
cal, compound, ERASIVE Soap !” 

Here Hard-Cheek’s oratory was interrupted by a 
shower of dimes from boys, men, and hobble-de-hoys, 
and the “ show” was considered closed.” 


CAPTAIN M’SPADDEN, 


THE IRISH GENTLEMAN IN PURSHUTE OF A SCHULE. 

I WILL endeavour to chalk out for our readers, a rough 
sketch of Captain M’Spadden, an Irish gentleman who 
visited our town, not long since, while on a pedewstrian 
tour through the piney woods, in search of a location 
for a « bit of a schule.” 

We were not looking for Captain M’Spadden. He 
came among us unexpected, unannounced. Living 
fish sometimes drop from the clouds ; and there is no 
particular reason why M’Spadden might not have made 
his entry in the same manner — for lie was an odd fish — 
except that the weather was quite fair at the time ; no 
vapour at all competent to the transportation of an Irish- 
man, weighing an hundred and odd pounds, having 
been seen for several days previously. It was therefore 
presumed (in the absence of the possession of any quad- 
rupedal chattel by Mac), that he was on a pedestrian 
tour for amusement or business. Be this as it might, 
when first observed, the Captain was leaning against a 
tree at one corner of the public square. He had under 
one arm, a pair of corduroy breeches ; under the other 
an invalided boot. Mac himself, was a thin «« bit ov a 
crathur,’ with a light gray eye, white eye-brows, and de- 

( 112 ) 



CAPTAIN McSPADDEN, 

The Irish Gentleman in purshute of a schule ,” — Pagi ll?i 




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CAPTAIN M’SPADDEN. 


113 


licate, fair features. The restlessness of his glances, and 
the convulsive twitches of his facial nerves, showed that 
the poor fellow was suffering from incipient delirium tre- 
mens. As old Tom Martin would say, he had swal- 
lowed some monkey eggs, all along wid his bitthers, 
and they’d hatched a brood of live young divils to kape 
him in company.” 

Mac’s drapery was unique. He had on a marvel- 
lously dirty and ragged shirt, over which was a coat 
evidently cut for a much smaller individual than him- 
self ; the waist was just under his arms, while the extre- 
mity of the tail fell but a few inches below the s^all 
of the wearer’s back. His pantaloons, mud-coloured, 
were long-waisted and short-legged. On his left foot 
was the mate of the boot under his arm ; his right foot 
was bare, and as red as a beet. His silk hat had a 
turn-up of the rim behind, and a mash-in of the crown 
before, and the absence of all gloss, and many indenta- 
tions., showed that it had been a hat of many sorrows. 
Still it had a jaunty, impudent air, that showed that 
Mac considered himself ‘‘one of ’em” — and as it 
perched itself over its owner’s left eye, any one could 
see that it was a hat of considerable character. 

One of the Captain’s conceits was, that he was pur- 
sued by a woman who claimed to be a relative, and 
demanded a provision for her support. With this dis- 
tressing idea in his mind, Mac leaned against a tree, as 
I have said, and addressed, alternately a group of little 
boys that were standing around him, and his imaginary 
female persecutor. 

“ Whist ! — aisy now ! — be aisy ! — I tell ye he said, 
addressing the apparition ; “ divil fly away wid the 


114 


CAPTAIN M’SPADDEN. 


thing I have to give ye — for be the same token, it’s me 
own breakfast that I haven’t tasted the smell ov yet, this 
blessed bright mornin’.” 

« Arrah, boys!” — this was to the youngsters;. ‘‘I’ll 
form ye into a nate class, for sport, ye see. Come 
now, stand up, there ! Be the Saints, I’d a jolly little 
schule, down below here. Heads up ! an’ I’ll flog the 
whole class for amusement, and niver a cent for your 
aflekshanate parints to pay.” 

The boys laughed, shouted, and broke ranks at this 
announcement ; and Mac, scowling over his shoulder, 
again spoke to his feminine tormentor, as if in reply : 

« Wild I give ye a dollar to buy a dacint gown wid.'* 
— ye say ! Be me sowl, an it’s a nice word that dhrops 
so swate from yer mouth! Wud I give ye a dollar — 
an wud a dog shaik his tail, that had niver a stump to 
wag, at all, at all ! 

Avaunt and quit me sight — 

Thy bones are marrowless — thy blood is cold ! 

There is no speculation in those eyes 

Which thou dost glare with — and d — n ye, be off!” 

Just at this time a huge cross bull-dog (who no doubt 
felt an interest in remarks so personal to his species), 
walked up to Mac, and nosed him most impertinently. 
The Captain squirmed round the tree, looking thunder- 
bolts all the while, and the bull-dog followed, with still 
inquiring nose, and bristles all erect. 

“ Begone ! ye baste ! It’s Captain Bland M’Spadden, 
of the Royal Irish Greys, that’s now willing to tache a 
dozen or so ov young gentlemen, arithmetic and man- 
ners, at two dollars the quarther — begone!” 


CAPTAIN M’SPADDEN. 


115 


Danger knows full well 

M’Spadden is more dangerous than he. 

We were two lions (be J — s, its thrue !) lithered in one day, 

And I the elder and more terrible 

‘‘ Be St. Patrick, the ugly baste will tear me in 
paces !” 

But the dog was merciful ; and on concluding his 
examination, merely held up one hind leg significantly 
— as much as to say ^miat for you!” — and walked 
away. 

‘‘ Captain M’Spadden,” said a bystander, as Mac 
vainly essayed to set himself properly upon his pegs : — 
‘‘Havn’t you been crowding drinks, mightily, of late — 
rather pressing the figure — eh 

Bland looked around, and his eye fell on a tall, 
handsome, judicial-looking personage. 

« Did I undherstand,” replied Mac ; did I undher- 
stand yer Honour to say, wud I taik a glass of whisky 
wid ye 

“ By no means,” was the reply ; « but here’s a dime 
to buy yourself something to eat.” 

To ate, yer Honour an me a dying wid the chol- 
ery.^^ Bedad, it’s the physic I’m afthur, to dhrive the 
bloody faand out ov me sistem wid I” 

Did you ever have the cholera, Mac ?” 

^‘Ha! ha!” laughed Mac; <‘did iver I have the 
cholery.? Did a fish swim.^ Be J — s, its fourteen 
times the nasty crathur has tuk the Gorjin knot upon 
me enthrils, and I faal the premonethory simtims rootin, 
this blessed minit, in me stomik, like pigs in a paa 
field. The cholery, indade !” 

Captain M’Spadden now marched into the grocery. 


116 CAPTAIN M’SPADDRN. 

walked up to the bar, and looking the dealer in the 
face, asked, 

Did iver I see that eye, afore ?” 

Quite likely,” replied Tap. 

May be it’s only me word for luck ye’d be takin’, 
this pleasint mornin’, for a dhrop ov the corn corjil — 
and me a sufferin’ in me bowils, wid the cholery ?” 

«« I’ll take the money quoth Tap, handing out a 
decanter, but keeping his hand upon it, as if waiting 
for payment. 

Mac threw himself in a tragic attitude, and drawing 
down his white eye-brows, until they overhung the tip 
of his little red nose, he exclaimed, 

«« Hath a dog moneys ? Is it possible a cur can lend 
three thousand ducats ? Holy faathers ? I’ve but a bit 
ov a kine (coin) here, but the physic I must have, to be 
sure. Wud ye tell me where I can get a bit ov a schule 
to tache asthronomy, and Shaikspair, and manners, all 
for two dollars a quarthur?” 

D — n your duckets and your « Schule’ too,” replied 
Tap ; “ hand over a picayune.” 

Mac handed over the money, and drank his whiskey ; 
and just as he was replacing the tumbler on the board, 
the female spectre peered over his shoulder, and he 
dropped the glass and broke it. 

“ Shadders avaunt!” shouted the Captain; Tray, 
Blanche and Sweetheart, little dogs and all — sick ’em 
boys I Hoot, away, ye ugly famale witch ! I’ve the 
cholery, I tell ye, an it’s ketchin’ enthirely 1” 

“You’ve broken my tumbler,” said Tap, complain- 

ingly- 

“ Shaik not thy gaury locks at me ; thou canst not 


CAPTAIN M’SPADDEN. 117 

say I did it !” replied the Captain ; it was the sha 
divil that’s tazin’ the soul out ov me body!” 

‘‘Did you ever teach school?” asked Tap, as 
M’Spadden blundered into a chair. 

“ Did I iver ? Did the blessed Saint iver kill snakes ? 
Why, man, I’d a delightful little schule below here — 
fifteen or twenty’s as many boys as a wakely crathur, 
like meself, can do his duty by the flogging ov, and he 
to bate the big boys wid a stout shill aly — an I was 
tachin ’em illigint ; and ye may kiss the cross, the little 
darlints loved me, inthirely ; but it got broke up be an 
axident, be gorra.” 

“ How came that ?” 

“Ye’ll taik notice, I was dozin’ in me chair, one 
swate afthernoon, dhramin’ away all about nothin’, an 
the little darlints that loved me as mother’s milk — for I 
tached ’em arethmetic, an asthronomy, and manners all, 
illigint — the little darlints, ye see, put a quill full ov 
snuff into me nostril, all for the fun. Holy J — s! but 
I was in thrubble wid the snazin’, an cryin’, an sputter- 
in’ ; an the little darlints all tickled wid the sport. So, 
as soon as me eyes come to, I tuk the biggest ov the 
boys by the heels, inthirely, and I flogged the whole 
schule wid his head an shoulders an arms. Be J — s, 
they roared, an we kept up the sport an the fun, till 
divil the sound head was in the schule, barrin’ me own 
that was full ov snuflf.” 

“Then the parents drove you off?” 

“Faix! They hate me away,” said Mac sorrow- 
fully; “the ign’rant spalpeens, that couldn’t undher-' 
stmd a joke 


118 


CAPTAIN M’SPADDEN. 


«‘But,”he continued, the diviPs been in it, iver 
since I lost my commission in the Royal Greys.’’ 

Let’s hear ’bout that,” said an honest inquirer after 
truth, as he sat lazily back, in his chair, with his broad- 
brimmed hat between his knees — let’s hear ’bout 
that.” 

I’d tell ye in a minit,” replied Mac, ‘‘ but — I’m 
monsthrous dry.” 

This objection to the narration having been removed 
by a half tumbler of < corn corjil,’ Mac proceeded as 
follows, Broadbrim resting his face on his hands, in an 
attitude of deep attention : 

‘‘Ye’ll notice,” quoth the Captain, “I’d a company 
in the Royal Greys — ye’ve heard of the Royal Greys, 
belikes? — no.? — thin I’ll tell ye, ’twas the clanest, 
natest, gintaalest ridgment in the kingdom, an its 
meself was the aquil ov the best in it. So one day, 
we’d a grate revue, an the Quane was out, an Prince 
Albert (may his sowl rest in purgathory, amen !) in her 
carriage to see it.” 

“ Did you ever see the Queen of England .?” asked 
Broadbrim, as in doubt. 

“ Did I iver see the Quane .? Did you ever put a 
petatie in the ugly hole in yer face .? So the Quane 
was out, as fine as a flower, to see the revue. By an 
by, the Juke of Wellington comes to me, an ses he, 
‘ Mac, the Quane has kitcht a sight ov yer good looks, 
and wants ye to present yerself before her. — Thair’s 
luck for ye, me boy’ — and the Juke slapped me on the 
shouldhers.” 

“Was that the great Duke of Wellington, you’re 
talking about.? Did you know him 


CAPTAIN M’SPADDEN. 


119 


«No less, be the cross! The Juke an me was as 
inthimate as brothers ; so we went to where the royal 
cortiz was, an thair was her majesty, in the royal car- 
riage, as lively as bricks and full ov fun. Ses she, 
« Captain M’Spadden, ye’ve a fine company !’ — « Yer 
most grashus and amyable majesty!’ — ses I, gettin’ 
upon me knaas. 

‘ Wouldn’t ye like a bit ov promoshun. Captain 
M’Spadden ?’ says her majesty. 

‘ Yer most adorable majesty has guessed the sacrit 
of me heart,’ ses I. 

“ < It’s the best lookin’ lad, ye are. Captain,’ said her 
majesty, ‘ I’ve seen this season.’ 

“ ‘ I shall be at charges for a lookin’ glass, yer most 
heavenly majesty, since yer majesty ses so ; but its lit- 
tle the advantage I have ov yer most grashus majesty, 
in regard of looks,’ ses I. 

That last shot did the bis’ness for the Quane, 
but the Prince, ye’ll notice, was as savage as a tiger, 
judgin’ be his looks. — So I went back, an ses the 
Juke to me, ‘ Mac, me boy, it’s all over wid ye — • 
didn’t ye see Albert’s looks } He’s as jalous as the 
divil, and ye’ll have to lave the Ridgement to-mor- 
row !’ An bedad, so I had ; an here I am in purshute 
ov a bit ov a schule to tache fifteen or twenty boys 
grammar, an asthronomy, an manners, at two dollars 
a quarther” — and here Mac soothed away,” into a 
gentle slumber, as he sat, with a conscience apparently 
at ease. 

I’ve hearn tales, and seen liars,” said Broadbrim, 
as he rose to order a glass of whiskey ; and I have 


120 


CAPTAIN M’SPADDEN, 


beam « stretcbin’ the blanket,’ and < shootin’ with the 
long bow and I always thought we was great on that, 
in this here Ameriky, but I find it’s with liars, as with 
everything else, ef you want an extra article you must 
send to furrin parts /” 


THE ELEPHANT IN LA FAYETTE. 


Our county of Chambers has a very curiosity-loving 
population, and when the bills are stuck for a public 
execution of any sort, in any of our villages, no sort of 
weather can keep our people away. Magicians” 
charm, and “ Circuses” entrance them — but a Mena- 
gerie almost throws them into spasms of delight. 

Some months ago, Raymond’s fine collection of ani- 
mals was shown in La Fayette, with the unusual attrac- 
tion of lion-tamers, male and female. On this feature 
of the exhibition, the public voice was loud, enthusi- 
astic, and eloquent, for several days before the Menagerie 
arrived. When it came, we visited it, in company 
with our waggish old Irish friend, Tom Martin — the 
same who told the story of the ‘‘ Double-Headed 
Snake.” 

The elephant was the great point of attraction, as 
usual. Many were the remarks elicited by his immense 
size and docility. 

I want his hide and frame for a corn crib,” said a 
fellow from Pan-Handle Beat. 

“ Save me his years for skearts to my old wagin 
saddle,” remarked another. 

“Good gracious!” ejaculated a sallow girl, with a 


122 THE ELEPHANT IN LA FAYETTE. 

dirty blue ribbon around a yellow neck, was it horned 
with that ugly snake thing stuck to its nose ?” 

«« Its got a’most the least har to as much Aide, that I 
ever seed,” quoth Jerry Brumbelow. 

« Whar do they raise ’em ?” asked some honest 
searcher after knowledge. 

“ Not here — not here in this country,” replied Jim 
M’GafTey, with a knowing look. 

Whar, then ?” 

« That animal,” said Jim, who was very drunk, 
« that animal wasn’t raised in the island of Ameriky ; 
it come all the way from Ireland,'''^ 

“ Give us your hand, my friend,” exclaimed old Tom 
Martin, with an ironical air ; give us your hand for 
the thrue word ye’re tellin’ the boys. Don’t ye see the 
creator’s ? Sure ’twas made for the Bogs of the 
ould counthry ! This thing, tho’, is but a heiffer, as ye 
may say. What would ye say if ye could see a gini- 
wine Irish Bull‘d Tut!” 

Satis ! jam satis P’ soliloquized a corpulent lawyer, 
as he walked up ; unconsciously latinizing the spirit 
of Tom Haines’ remark on a similar occasion. * 

The group adjourned to the vicinity of the lion. 

“ Why didn’t they shurr (shear) that critter’s fore 
parts, as well as his hind ones ?” asked some one. 

‘‘ You see,” said his keeper, « he’s got a breast 
complaint, and we were afraid of increasing his cold.” 

‘‘ Well, by granny, I did notice he was hoarse when 
he hollered a while ago.” 

Whar did he come from, Jim?” asked one of the 
crowd. 


* Vide Georgia Scenes.” 


THE ELEPHANT IN LA FAYETTE. 128 

« From Ireland, too, be Jasus,” said old Tom, taking 
the word out of Jim’s mouth. 

‘‘Didn’t he, M’Gaffey?” 

“ I judge he did,” said Mac. 

“ I’ll take my corporal of it,” returned Martin ; “ the 
grooves ov Blarney is full ov ’em.'” 

Presently the crowd was ordered back, and Mr. and 
Mrs. Shaffer entered the cage with the lion, tiger, and 
other animals. 

“ That takes Billy’s horns smooth off to his skull — 
don’t it said Tom Hussey. 

“ Is it a rail woman in thar.^” asked a skeptical dirt 

eater. 

“Why, you see,” said Jim M’Gaffey, “it’s a rail 
woman, but she’s got great sperret. Some people, tho’, 
think these show people ain’t regular human.” 

“ No more they ain’t,” said old Tom. 

“ What ar they, then 

^^Airish to be sure !” 

“Ain’t the Irish human !” 

“ Divil the taste !” responded old Tom, “ thefre all 
subjects ov the Queen ov Great Britain 

“ That’s a fact,” said Jim M’Gaffey ; and the point 
was settled. 

Mrs. Shaffer shook her whip at the tiger, which 
dashed by her and crouched in a corner of the c^ge, 
growling furiously. 

“Take care, bare-legs; the old boy’s rattlen’ his 
chain — as my old woman tells the children, when they 
cry,” said John Davis. 

“ I say, John,” observed a half- worn man in a 
224 


124 THE ELEPHANT IN LA FAYETTE. 

slouched hat — « I ain’t no objection to that woman 

showin’ her legs that way ; but if Betsey was to ” 

Let Betsey’s name alone, you good-for-nothing,” 
interrupted a sharp-nosed female, with one child in her 
arms, and another at her knee, “let Betsey’s name 
alone.” It was the blessed Elizabeth herself — “ and 
come and tote Jake. Here they’ve been scrougin’ and 
runnin’ over the poor child all day — and you a-j awin’ 
thar ! It’s only the Lord’s mercy the elephant didn’t 
tromp on him, and squash him to death. Come along !” 

The hen-pecked meekly obeyed ; took Jacob into his 
paternal arms ; and we — ceased to take notes. 


THE DIKTIKEN. 


Mr. Ferdinand Vickers is one of the natural curi- 
osities of Chambers county. As he pertinaciously gives 
the Irish sound to the e in his Christian name, the good 
people of La Fayette have adopted his pronunciation, 
and abbreviated his name. They call him Uncle 
Fard.” 

Uncle Fard is about sixty years old ; but his tall, 
vigorous frame shoves, as yet, no symptom of shrink- 
ing. He is hard-featured, raw-boned, and very erect ; 
and as for his voice, the notorious Ben Hardin’s would 
no more compare with it, than a lady’s whisper with 
the roar of a water-fall. Nature has bestowed upon 
him lungs as strong as a smith’s bellows, and throat 
exactly to match them. 

He generally wears his shirt open in front, exposing 
his pillar-like neck and brawny dark chest ; and per- 
haps to this habit he may be indebted, in his old age, 
for the health and strength of the organs within. By 
a parity of reasoning, however, he would be very sub- 
ject to cold in the face ; for Uncle Fard wears a beard 
generally, very much of the length, colour, and general 
appearance of the bristles of a shoe brush. His rough, 
uncouth appearance often invites the raillery of the 
village wags, but it has been generally observed that 

( 125 ) 


THE DIRTIKEN. 


126 

the best of them were forced to retire from the field 
before his quaint, original wit, and his superior powers 
of sarcasm. 

No man, within my acquaintance (and I have once 
or twice found it so to my cost), can more effectually 
rasp an assailant. He has so much discrimination in 
ascertaining the tenderest spot, and keeping it galled ! 
So much for Uncle Fard.’’ 

Young Coats is not at all like “Uncle Fard.” He 
is about twenty years old, but not larger than a well- 
grown boy of fourteen. He has the complexion of a 
pumpkin, thin legs, a protuberant belly, a shrill voice, 
and not the remotest prospect of ever being compelled 
to use a razor. In short, he comes so well up to Judge 
Longstreet’s description of “ Raney Sniffle,” that he 
might well pass for that worthy’s twin brother. 

But the jewel enclosed in this rather inelegant cas- 
ket — the soul of Coats — makes amends for all physical 
deficiencies. Coats has the concentrated valour of a 
dozen fices, and struts and swaggers through a crowd 
as though he would say, “ Take care ! ta-ke care ! I’m 
dangerous — I am!” 

As a natural result of this fire-eating temperament, 
when Captain Oliver Hazzard Perry Hamilton came to 
La Fayette, recruiting under the ten regiment law, for 
the army in Mexico, Coats threw himself forward in 
defence of his country, received six dollars and a drill- 
ing, got drunk in the evening, and thought, as he stag- 
gered to his boarding-house at night, how comfortable 
it was to have plenty of good victuals and a nice bed ; 
and so thinking, and jingling five dollars and sixty-odd 
cents in his breeches pocket, he hastened to avail him- 


THE DIRTIKEN. 127 

self of those comforts, in the order mentioned, as speed- 
ily as practicable. 

Now it came to pass, that on the day after Coats’s 
enlistment. Uncle Fard came to town to make some 
purchases of sugar and coffee and the like ; to which, 
having made the indispensable addendum of a drink” 
at Billy Hunter’s, he started for his horse, which was 
hitched in the rear of Mr. Crayton’s store ; but the 
weather being warm, and Uncle Fard disposed to 
friendly chat, he accepted an invitation to rest awhile 
in the shade of the store piazza. Presently young 
Coats came up to the group sitting there, and Uncle 
Fard inquired «« who that sickly youngster might be 

« A United States’ soldier,” was the answer. 

A United — granny’s cat !” exclaimed Vickers in 
the voice of a Numidian lion — « he an’t got the 
strength to fight the muskeeters off of hisself, ef he was 
in a swamp !” 

‘‘Hear that. Coats asked an amiable bystander 
— “ hear that ?” 

“ Hear what?” 

“ Why,” resumed Uncle Fard, beginning a conver- 
sation with Coats, “ why, that the man that took you 
as an able-bodied recruit, don’t know no more about 
manhood than a bull yearlin’ does about the acts of the 
’postles. Why, bless my soul, you an’t fit for nuthin’ 
in the \vorld but heaver haitP^ 

Coats’ eyes kindled, and his sallow cheeks grew 
the colour of a half-burnt brick. Raising himself up, 
said he — 

“No man shall talk that way ’bout me ; I’m little. 


128 


THE DIRTIKEN. 


but dod drot my upper leather ef any man shall crowd 
my feelings’ that way !” 

“Pshaw! pshaw!” growled old Fafd; “ keep still, 
you poor, ager-ridden, clay-eatin’ offin’ [orphan] or 
your Uncle Fard ’ll pinch you — as I was gwine to 
say — ” 

Here Coats became furious. 

“ Clear the way, gentlemen — let me go — cuss his old 
liver. I’ll have his heart-strings, or bust!” 

But some one held Coats, so that he couldn’t strike 
Vickers, who, turning coolly to the proprietor of the 
store, remarked in the most quiet manner imaginable — 

“Billy Crayton, hit ’ll fight!” 

A yell from the crowd followed this sally, and the 
poor recruit’s excitement knew no bounds. 

“Hit!” he exclaimed; “ who dars to call me hit^ 
Bern his old gray har, it shan’t purtect him ! I’m jist 
as good as ever was wrapped up in a human hide, and 
nobody shan’t call me M.” 

With this, Coats made an effort to raise a chair to 
strike Uncle Fard, but a spectator placed his foot on 
one of the rounds and held it down. 

“Let him alone, gentlemen,” said old Fard; “let’s 
see if hit can raise the chair.” 

Coats was now minus his coat, and dashed at the old 
man with the spring of a wild-cat, but Uncle Fard qui- 
etly took both the young man’s hands in one of his 
own, and grasping them tightly, addressed him pater- 
nally : 

“ Child ! child ! what^s the use of gittin’ so mad for 
what little fightiri^ you can do 9 Why, baby, I can hold 


THE DIRTIKEN. 


129 


you up, by one ear, between me and the sun, and tell 
you adzactly what you had for breakfast this morning 

Poor Coats, exhausted by his fruitless struggles, was 
now quiescent, and still in the hard grasp of old Fard, 
appealed to the crowd. GentlemeTi, Pm reglar ’listed 
in the ’nited States’ sarvice, and’s got orders agin raisin’ 
rows, but this ain’t no way to treat a feller — Pll leave it 
to you all ef it is.” 

One of the crowd now advised Uncle Fard « to re- 
lease Coats, as it was quite unpatriotic in him to take 
an American soldier prisoner.” 

« American repeated Vickers, with boundless con- 
tempt in his expression; American! he’s no Ameri- 
can. This here boy was raised on dit't — I won’t own 
any sich for Americans. Pll tell you what he is — ” 

<‘What? what?” asked the recruit, foaming and 
snapping — “ tell it out, you old Lord-forgotten scoun- 
drel!” 

<‘You are,” said Uncle Fard, very gravely and 
slowly, “ you are a Dirtiken I” 

Coats’s reply was drowned in the uproarious laugh 
at his expense, but being released, he hid himself from 
Fard, in the crowd. At this juncture. Lieutenant 
M’Millian, a recruiting officer, but not of the company 
to which Coats belonged, came up. Uncle Fard, not 
knowing this, got an introduction to him, for the pur- 
pose of rallying him on the appearance of his recruit. 
However, the old man misunderstood the Lieutenant’s 
name. 

« I say, Leftenant M’Hellion,” he began, ‘‘you cer- 
tainly ain’t agwine to take that critter that was here a 
little bit ago, to Maxico ? I tell you, Leftenant, I was 


130 


THE DIRTIKEN. 


at Autossee and Caleebee and the Horse-shoe — hit’s 
now been thirty years and the rise — and, I’ll tell you, 
sir, it took a man with hands, sir, to carry up his cor- 
ner, in them scrapes. What would any poor pursley- 
gutted, deer-legged critter, like Coats, a’done thar ^ — 
say, Leftenant M’Hellion !” 

At this moment. Coats, who had overheard part of 
Uncle Fard’s remark, was seen trying to raise from its 
bed in the ground, before the door, a stone of about 
half his own weight, no doubt with the intention of 
projecting it at his annoyer. 

Uncle Fard, as it was growing late, remarked that 
he would go home, and that he thought by the time he 
got there, “ the critter would have eat every sign of dirt 
from round that rock.” So the old man picked up his 
bundles and walked round the corner to his horse. 
Coats left off his labour and betook himself to the gro- 
cery,” where after imbibing a much larger quantity of 
whiskey than one would have supposed his brain had 
strength to bear, commenced enlarging on the subject 
of his manhood and courage : 

«« I’ll tell you, gentleme/i, some on you may know 
sumthin’ about what made me ’list in the army. As 
for old Jenks’s a-whippin’ me about that ’fair with his 
gal, I wan’t afeerd o’ that ! I’m as good as ever flut- 
tered, and can whip old Jenks as quick as a sheep can 
flop hit’s tail ! Twan’t that made me ’list with Captin’ 
Hambleton. Well, it’s honourable I reckon to fight for 
the country, and no man shan’t say nothin’ agin the 
army before me. I’m little, but I’ve got as good grit 
as anything that ever weighed a hundred and seven 
pounds and three-quarters! Old Fard Vickers can’t 


THE DIRTIKEN. 131 

scare me, and ef ’twan’t that he is as old as he is, Fd 
kick the old rascal into doll-rags !” 

Old Fard had been peeping in at the back-door some 
little time, having slipped around to mend his drink 
before starting. 

Walking in, he addressed Coats in the most friendly 
manner : 

Son, son, let’s quit this romancin’. You know old 
daddy was only in a joke.” 

Coats pouted, and said, he’d be drot if he liked any 
sich jokes.” 

« Come, come, son,” said old Fard coa^ingly ; « your 
gran’ pappy knows you can whip him — he’s old now, 
and you are young and much of a man ef you are little. 
Let’s drap funnin’ and take a drink.” 

Coats swelled with pride at the admission he sup- 
posed to have been extorted by his valorous conduct, 
and smiled his acquiescence in the proposition to drink. 

“ Sonny,” said Vickers, as soon as they had kissed 
tumblers and imbibed ; “ sonny, I was altogether a jok- 
in’ out yonder afore Billy Crayton’s door — cause, you 
see, I knowed all the time you would do to fight the 
Mexicans, fust rate.” 

«« Well, horse, I would.” 

<^To be sure,” said old Fard; I could take five 
hundred men like you, son, and take the dty of Mexico, 
no matter how strong the walls was.” 

The young soldier opened his eyes with surprise, and 
looked also as if he desired to know how that could be 
done. 

«« You’ll observe,” continued Fard, as they sat down 
together, at a small table, “ you’ll observe, Fd take you 


132 


THE DIRTIKEN. 


all on to Orleans fust, and from thar on to Corpus Kris- 
ty, and so on, to Maxico, by the nighest route, a tra- 
vellin’ mostly of a night. Well, when we got thar, or 
close by, about the dusk of the evenin’, Pd march you 

all up in thirty foot of the walls, without any guns 
)) 

« Without any guns !” repeated Coats. 

«« Yes, without guns ; and then Pd form you and 
give the order ” 

« What order?” 

Why, the order. Dig and Eat ! And I judge, by 
mornin’ the whole ridgiment could dig and eat their 
way through under their walls, and so into the city, like 
so many gophers ! Don’t you think you could come 
it?” asked he maliciously. 

This was too much for Coats. He rose from his seat, 
completely crest-fallen, and sneaked off. Old Fard, 
with a chuckle, climbed upon his horse, adjusted his 
sugar and coffee, and fetching three cheers for the 
“ Dirtiken Ridgiment,” rode off. 


AN INVOLUNTARY MEMBER OF THE 
TEMPERANCE SOCIETY. 

Passing through Notasulga, on my way to Chambers, 
I was accosted by friend Halley who keeps a <‘Res- 
turat” at this interesting point. He insisted on my 
taking a « hasty” steak at his establishment ; and not- 
withstanding it would have suited General Scott, in 
the expedition with which it was prepared, yet, on 
honour, a better one could not have been obtained this 
side of the Rialto.” Shade of Nagle ! Though living, 
still but a shade ! — but it was refreshing in its reeking 
juiciness ! 

With the steak aforesaid comfortably under hatches, 
the lad who was << hauling” me, and myself were 
quietly and slowly jogging along, a mile or two from 
Notasulga, when a masculine voice, from the roadside, 
hailed us with — 

Me fren’s!” 

We stopped and inquired what this indubitable 
Patlander desired : 

«« May be,” he said with a brogue absolutely unctu- 
ous, << may be you’d have no objictions to givin’ a man 
with a sthrained ancle and niver a sound spot on his 
body, a cast as fur as the nixt stage stand — would ye ?” 

( 133 ) 


1 / 


134 


AN INVOLUNTARY MEMBER 


As it was only a mile or two, I assented, and the 
Emeralder hobbled up and tucked himself somehow 
into the bottom of the buggy. 

« Ochone !” he commenced lamenting, as soon as 
stowed — “ ye’ve brought disgrace on yerself, Dennis 
Maguire, and what’s more, on your blessed Almy Ma- 
ther, old Thrin’ty Collidge, Dooblin! Ye have, ye 
divil, ye have ! Ye’ve done it in this fray counthry 
too, whare among all the intilligent Amerikens, ye’ve 
not met an ould acquaintance, or one that could spake 
a word nath’ral to yer ears, barrin the pigs ! — Ochone !” 

“ You are an alumnus, then, of old Trinity?” said I. 

« Your mother’s darlint may say that and spake the 
truth,, inthirely, altogether.” 

« When did you graduate ?” 

«« Bedad ! that’s more’n I can tell !’ 

^cWhy not?” 

Why, faix! I warn’t there at the time ov it.” 

« Then I suppose you didn’t graduate ?” 

“ Thrue, enthirely !” 

« Well, how long did you remain at the University ?” 

“Something betwixt three and six months, and I 
may say I was dhrinkin’ in the strame of knowledge 
as fast as iver ye see a boy, when one divil’s day the 
young gintleman I was wid, took the supposition inthire- 
ly that I was wearing a pair ov his new breeches, and 
so he kicked me down stairs — and divil a step my 
faalins’ would iver let me go back : and so I left old 
Thrin’ty forever !” 

I soon ascertained that my Irish friend had only 
been at Trinity, in the capacity of servitor to some wild 


OF THE TEMPEKANCE SOCIETY. 


135 


student, and commenced catechising him as to how 
he had been wounded. After a vast deal of circum- 
locution, he informed me that he had fallen into a deep 
railroad excavation. I suggested that he might have 
been drunk at the time. 

“ Dhrunk I thought ye said — divil a bit ! At the 
particklar time we were spakin’ ov, I was in a wakin’ 
drame, and thought I was walkin’ on Collidge Green, 
when all ov a suddint, my centhre ov gravity got out 
ov place inthirely, and down I dropped all ov a heap. 
Dhrunk ! Why, praps, you didn’t observe that at tha 
particklar time, I was a mimber of the Timp’rance !” 

A member of the Temperance Society ?” 

“ To be certain ! and without disgracin’ yer family, 
you may say I had been for some considherable time 
afore.” 

Nagle, Halley, or somebody else, had stuck a flask 
of “ Otard,” between the cushions and back of the 
buggy, and being reminded thereof, I drew it out with 
the remark that I was sorry Dennis couldn’t join in the 
potation. How was I surprised then, when he said, 
stretching out his arm — 

A taste ov the flavour ov that same, if ye plase !” 

«<Why! The devil! Father Matthew! — what do 
you mean.^” 

Mane ! Divil a bit ov Praste’s pewther or silver 
was iver in my hands, at all, at all,” (Drinking.) 
« Faix I got into the Timperance agin my will com- 
plately. Misther Riddle, ye see, paid oflf the boys 
inthirely, on Saturday night. And what with one little 
bit or another, and lending Barney’s wife the balance, 


136 AN INVOLUNTARY MEMBER, ETC. 

when I kim to the grocery divil a rap did I have at all. 
So Joe Rouse — Purgathory resave his sowl ! — kept no 
books, owin’ to which «« your humble” — winkin’ humo- 
rously — bekim an involunthary mimber ov the Timp’- 
rance Society for several days inthirely — 

Here’s your hilth, sir!” 


A LEGISLATIVE ELECTION. 


The following little story was suggested by the announce- 
ment of the election of Mr. Eastman, a Nashville editor, as 
Clerk of the Tennessee House of Representatives. Our friends 
Downman and Hale will, we trust, not be offended by the pub- 
lication ; they know how true is the narration, and how heartily 
we all laughed at it, at the time 

Editors in Tennessee fare better and are better 
appreciated, than in Alabama. At our last session, 
three or four (of both parties) received their qakt-us. 
Among them was Bob Downman, a glorious fellow, of 
infinite jest” and flesh. He was a candidate for the 
Solicitorship of his circuit, and was beaten by the 
lamented Forney, of Lowndes — now, alas ! no more. 

How was it. Bob, that they beat you so bad i* — that 
you only got seven votes asked Sam Hale, who had 
just got the same sort of treatment. 

“ Pshaw !” replied Downman, « there isn’t a reliable 
memory in the whole Legislature. I was just as good 
as elected — had eighty-five votes pledged dead certain 
— and I would have gone home, but I thought I would 
stay and take my commission along. 

«« Tell us about it,” quoth Sam. 

Just this way. I had the names of eighty-five cer- 
tain on my memorandum — and I was really afraid all 

( 137 ) 


138 


A LEGISLATIVE ELECTION. 


marked < probable’ would vote for me, and give the 
other boys no showing. You observe, I didn’t want to 
hurt feelings y 

Go on,” said Hale, maliciously forcing Bob to the 
point. 

« Well, when the Senate went into the Hall of the 
House, I took a stand in the lobby and pulled out my 
pencil and book and waited for the call. 

«« I didn’t expect many votes high up in the alphabet 
of the Senate^ so when the clerk called ‘ Mr. Presi- 
dent .^’ it didn’t set me back any, to hear in reply — 
‘Mr. Forney!’ 

“ ‘ Mr. Abercrombie — Mr. Forney !’ 

“ ‘ Mr. Beckett.^ — Mr. Forney 1’ 

« ‘ Mr. Buford } — Mr. Forney !’ 

“ ‘ Mr. Cocke } — Mr. Forney 1’ 

“ ‘ Mr. Dent.'* — Mr. Forney.^’ 

“ I didn’t much expect any of these, so I only drew 
a long breath ; but presently it got right down among 
my ‘ dead certain’ ones — and ’twas ‘ Mr. E. — Mr. For- 
ney ! Mr. F. ? — Mr. Forney ! Mr. G. } — Mr. Forney I’ — 
and — ah 1 from that time out^ through the Senate and 
the House, it was — with seven honourable exceptions — 
Forney! Forney! Forney! down, to Young of 

Marengo ! 

“Along at first. I’d scratch out the name of one of 
the « certain, as he’d vote against me, and think I’d 
enough left any how. But they soon dropped so fast 
that I couldn’t keep up, and so fell to cursing my luck, 
to be beaten by some confounded mistake — for I knew 
there was one somewhere 


A LEGISLATIVE ELECTION. 139 

“A mistake! Haw! haw!” roared the Sumter 
FalstafT. 

‘‘You may laugh if you choose,” said Bob, “but it 
was a mistake, as was very soon shown me.” 

“How?” 

“ Why, as soon as the election was over, out came 
Jimmy Williams, of Jackson, and said he, ‘My friend, 
I congratulate you on your triumphant election !’ 

“ ‘ Triumphant! — be hanged !’ said I. 

“ ‘ Why, isn’t your name Forney P 

“ ‘ Forney ! — the devil !’ 

“ ‘ Well, we aZ/ thought that was your name — you 
were the man we were voting for !’ 

“ So you see, Sam,” remarked Downman in conclu- 
sion, “ I lost my election by making a favourable and 
agreeable impression on one hundred and odd gentle- 
men, without insisting that each should take down my 
name !” 

“ That’ll do,” said Hale ; “ and I’ll go and do you 
up in an epigram.” And he did ; but like most of 
Sam’s epigrams, that is rather too unctuous. 

225 


AN ALLIGATOR STORY. 

Among the novelties of the season, one of the most 
striking is the “Alpha and Omega Pills,” of which I 
observe that the advertiser says : “ The name of these 
pills, though novel, is sufficient in discharging all their 
duties.” This being the case, if I find any friend in 
need of a cathartic, I will just mention them to him ; 
that being sufficient according to the advertisement. 

It is a pity but they had had so sovereign a remedy 
on the Alabama river, in the summer of 1836, when, if 
the following anecdote is founded in truth, it was rather 
sickly : 

Tom Judge, of Lowndes — I think it was Tom — was 
coming up the river, once, from Mobile, when a gentle- 
man from some one of the Northern States going to 
settle in Selma, walked up to him and inquired if there 
were any alligators in that stream. Tom took the dimen- 
sions of his customer with his eye, looked him coolly in 
the face, ascertained that he was soft, and then dolorously 
sighing, answered — 

“ Not now !” 

Spooney supposed he had awakened unpleasant 
emotions, and commenced an apology. 

“No matter,” replied Tom ; “ I was only thinking 
of my poor friend, John Smith, who was taken suddenly 

(140) 


AN ALLIGATOR STORY. 


141 


from us, in the summer of ’36. I was reminded of 
him by the association of ideas — the same season all 
the alligators disappeared from the river !” 

“ Was your friend drowned?” asked the green ’un 
No ; he died of that most horrible of all Southern 
diseases, the Congestive Fever. 

After a pause. Spooney essayed again : 

« What caused the disappearance of the alligators ?” 

«« They died of the same disease f replied Tom, 
looking at the stranger with a most sepulchral ex- 
pression. 

The young adventurer didn’t get out of the boat at 
Selma, nor until he reached the head of navigation, 
where, it is related, he took vehicular conveyance for 
more salubrious regions ! 


THE EES GEST^ A POOR JOKE. 

\ 

[“ We tell this tale as Hwas told to us.” j 

Old Col. D., of the Mobile District, was one of the 
most singular characters ever known in Alabama. 
He was testy and eccentric, but possessed many fine 
qualities, which were fully appreciated by the people 
of his district. Many of his freaks are still fresh in 
the memory of the « old ’uns” of Mobile ; and all of 
them will tell you, that the Colonel, though hard to 
beat, was once terribly taken in by a couple of legal 
tyros. It is George Woodward, I believe, that tells 
the story ; but, however that may be, it is in keeping 
with others related of the old gentleman. 

It seems that Col. D. had had a misunderstanding 
with the two gentlemen alluded to, and was not on 
speaking terms with them, although all of the three 
were professionally riding the Circuit pretty much 
together. The young ones, being well aware of the 
Colonel’s irascible nature, determined, as they left one 
of the Courts for another, to have some sport at his 
expense, by the way. They accordingly got about a 
half hour’s start in leaving, and presently they arrived 
at a broad, dark stream that looked as if it might be 

( 142 ) 


THE RES GESTiE A POOR JOKE. 


143 


a dozen feet deep, but which, in reality, was hardly 
more than as many inches. Crossing it, they alighted, 
pulled off their coats and boots, and sat down quietly 
to watch for the “old Tartar.” 

Jogging along, at length, up came the old fellow 
He looked first at the youngsters who were gravely 
drawing on their boots and coats, as if they had jus^ 
had a swim ; and then he looked at the broad creek 
that rolled before him like fluent translucent tar. The 
Colonel was awfully puzzled. 

“ Is this plaguy creek swimming.!^” he growled, after 
a pause of some moments. 

, ^0 reply was made ; the young men simply mount- 

ed their horses, and rode off some little distance, and 
stopped to watch our hero. 

The Colonel slowly divested himself of boots, coat, 
pantaloons and drawers. These he neatly tied up in 
his silk handkerchief, and hung them on the horn of 
the saddle. Then he remounted, and as he vras a fat, 
short man, with a paunch of inordinate size, rather ina- 
dequate legs, a face like a withered apple, and a brown 
wig, there is no doubt he made an interesting picture 
as he then bestrode his steed, with the “ breezes hold- 
ing gentle dalliance” with the extremities of his only 
garment. 

Slowly and cautiously did the old gentleman and his 
horse take the creek. Half a length — and the water 
was not fetlock-deep ! Here the horse stopped to drink. 
A length and a half— and the stream no deeper ! Thirty 
feet further, and a decided shoaling ! 

Here Col. D. reined up. “ There must,” he said, 
“ be a thundering swift, deep channel between this and 


144 THE RES GEST^ A POOR JOKE. 

the bank — see how the water runs! We’ll dash 
through 

A sharp lash made the horse spring half over the 
remainder of the watery waste and another carried 
horse and rider safely to the opposing bank. The 
creek was nowhere more than a foot deep. 

A wild yell from the young ’uns” announced their 
appreciation of the sport, as they gallopped away. 

«« I’ll catch you, you young rascals,” was ground out 
between Col. D.’s teeth ; and away he galloped in hot 
pursuit, muttering dreadful vengeance on his fugitive 
foes. 

On — on — they sped ! pursuer and pursued !” The 
youngsters laughed, yelled, screamed — the Colonel 
swore with mighty emphasis, while his shirt fluttered 
and crackled in the wind, like a loose flying jib ! 

On! — on! — and the pursued reached a farm-house 
on the road side. Their passing startled a flock of 
geese from a fence corner, which as the Colonel dashed 
up, met him with out-spread wings, elongated neck, 
and hisses dire. His horse swerved suddenly, and the 
Colonel, in a moment, was upon the ground, in a most 
unromantic heap,” with his brown wig by his side, 
and his bundle of clothes scattered around ! 

The white-headed children of the house came out 
first, took a distant vie'w of the monster — as it seemed 
to them, and then returned to report progress. After a 
little, the father of the family came out, and the affair 
being explained, assisted Col. D. in making his toilet ; 
the Colonel swearing, and the countryman laughing all 
the while. 

Dressed and remounted, our hero started off with 



“ Ilis horse swerved suddenly, and the Colonel, in a moment, was upon the ground 
in a most unromantic ‘ heap,’ with his brown wig by his side, and his bundle of clothes 
scattered around !” — Page 144. 



THE HES GESTJS A POOR JOKE. 145 

-woful phiz, but before he got a hundred yards, he was 
called back by the countryman. 

Here’s somethin’ you’ve dropped,” said the man, 
handing the Colonel his brown wig. 

«« Ah, yes,” growled D. ; “another item in the res 
gestce of this infamous affair.” 

«« What’s that you call it — res jestyl^ That’s a quar 
name to me. What do you do with it?” 

“ My friend, it is one of the set of circumstances all 
relating to the same infernal rascally trick .” 

“You don’t take my meanin’ — I jist wanted to know 
what’s the name of that harry thing in your hand, that 
I thought you said was a res jesty^ 

“ Ineffable blockhead !” — the Col. waxed wrathy — 
“ most asinine of mortals ! It was the vile conspiracy 
against me that I was about to explain. This is my 
OLD WIG ! The res gestce is a set of circumstances, as I 
was saying — in short — d — n it ! — you’ll never under- 
stand — in short, the < res jesty^ as you call it, in this 
particular case, taken all in all, constitute a d — d poor 
joke!” And the Colonel put on his wig, groaned at 
the good Samaritan, and decamped. 


OUK GRANNY. 

Everybody has a Granny ; at least, we never saw 
anybody that had not one. They appear to be as 
necessary as parents — else why their universality ? In 
every village, town, or city, (we speak now within the 
range of our own observation,) you will find a “ Granny 
Jones,” or a Granny Smith,” or a «« Granny Mitchell,” 
or a Granny Elliot.” There is no getting along with- 
out them ! Science has voted them useless — a nui- 
sance ! « Intelligent people” curl their noses at them ! 

We all say, your granny !” in derision or contempt ; 
and yet there — or rather, here — they firmly remain, 
useful, God-serving, garrulous handmaidens of Diana. 
So we really believe that Grannies are a part of the 
“ fitness of things,” and that to make war upon them, 
is to strive against nature. We, for one, are more than 
willing they should remain ; for we have always found 
them good old people, and they do so treasure up the 
past, that with their queer recollections, and fanciful 
legends, they are enabled to beguile most pleasantly 
the tedious hours of a sick-room. 

All mankind, and all womankind too, know what 
are the special functions of a granny ; so it is unne- 
cessary to expatiate particularly thereon. We may 
say, however, that the practice of our venerable friends 

( 146 ) 


OUR GRANNY. 


147 


is not restricted, by any means, to the principal duty 
and business of their lives. If they preside at births, 
the natural sympathy and connexion between the ex- 
tremes of life, brings them appropriately to the chambers 
of disease and death. 

Kind souls ! how they languish with the sick ! And 
with what reduced and insinuating and commiserating 
accents they recommend their bayb’ry root, and balm 
TEA, and ALLY-cuMPANE, and multitudinous other 
domestic nostrums and decoctions ! And how miracu- 
lous are the cures which these simples have effected, 
under their «« own dear eyes !” 

Our granny is « Granny Mitchum,” — and she is an 
«« exception,” (as the saying is,) « to all grannies.” 
She can sit up with the sick a greater number of con- 
secutive nights ; walk more lightly across the floor ; 
look wiser ; heave deeper sighs ; turn up her eyes high- 
er at the wonderful ; tell the age of more people, and 
the exact colour of m'ore dresses — than any granny of 
them all. 

She excels, too, in pantomime. The sick man is 
sleeping ; she would not wake him, for the world — but 
it is absolutely necessary that some particular thing 
should be done, for his comfort. Straightway, she 
catches the eye of the drowsy maid across the hearth — 
she points to the fire — makes a motion as if throwing 
on wood — twists her mouth dreadfully — contracts her 
brow — stirs an imaginary cup with her finger — and 
ends by looking at the sufferer and giving a series of 
nods. All this means — git the balm tea, warm it, 
PUT some sugar in it, and hand it to me I Let Gran- 


148 


OUR GRANNY. 


ny Mitchum alone for communicating her ideas, either 
with or without the aid of her tongue ! 

And then she is always so careful. She never treads 
on the cat’s tail, causing an hideous squall just as the 
baby has dropped off to sleep ! On the contrary, she 
looks daggers, pokers and brick-bats, at whoever does ; 
and soon our Granny establishes most wholesome po- 
lice regulations in whatsoever household whereinto she 
happeneth to come. 

Granny Mitchum is short, fleshy, squab. True, all 
grannies are so, but in these the strong points of gran- 
ny-hood, the old soul, to our partial eye, seems remark- 
able. Her old face is round and wrinkled, and her eyes 
are moist ; and there is a mole or wart on her upper lip, 
concerning which she relates some very remarkable 
stories. As for her figure, it resembles an egg with the 
small end downwards — with the trifling exception, that 
a WAIST is made, a few inches below her shoulders, by 
the tight-drawing of her apron-string. It seems as if 
the old lady were trying to cut herself in two ; but as it 
is the way with all grannies, and as we have never 
known a case among the tribe, of complete bisection, 
we rather suspect that Granny Mitchum will preserve 
her unity to the end of time. 

Our Granny has a deep-seated horror of pert, lively 
young ladies ; even if she were “ in at” their swathing, 
she likes them not. It is perhaps the only unamiable 
trait in her character. There’s that Bolina Eastus — the 
SASSY HEIFER, that thinks some of the greatest fools 
she ever saw, were among the oldest” — she haint no 
use for HER, at alt. Sich an owdacious thing, stickin’ 
out her mouth and shakin’ her shoulders at old people ! 


OUR GRANNY. 


149 


It’s WELL FOR HER, SHE ain’t her mammy ! And Gran- 
ny winds up with a very uncharitable expression of 
opinion about all book-larnt young ladies. 

Granny Mitchum has always been the Telegraph of 
our village ; and we will do her the justice to say, that 
her wires seldom break, and her posts never are blown 
down. She is always in opearation,” and if your 
despatches are not transmitted by lightning, they at 
least go « on the wings of the wind.” From house to 
house, speeds our granny, delivering her budget, always 
making the trip inside of schedule time,” and never 
in any weather, or from any accident, « losing a mail.” 
Her «« intelligence” is almost invariably correct. Once, 
only, was our Granny mistaken, and then in this wise : 

Mr. Snodgrass had moved into our town, from a 
neighbouring county in Georgia, and had brought with 
him the notion that he was considerably in- advance of 
the civilization of our place. He had an idea — which 
— we hardly know how to express it — in fact, an idea 
AGAINST GRANNIES. It was wrong (so all of our people 
thought), but still it was true, that Mr. Snodgrass would 
not employ a granny. He thought it safer, more sen- 
sible, and decidedly more fashionable, to supersede 
the Granny with the Physician; and when at length, 
it became necessary, in the progress of his domestic 
affairs, to call in one or the other, he said he would 
have NO nasty old woman about him, and forthwith 
sent for the Doctor. 

Granny Mitchum heard all about the matter, and 
immediately prognosticated that Mrs. Snodgrass’s baby 
would be a boy, and that she would have a bad time. 
Immediately, too, upon the announcement of the birth 


150 


OUR GRANNY. 


— confiding in the verity of the premises whence she 
had drawn her conclusions — she circulated the report, 
that the infant was a boy and the mother in a had way. 
It turned out, however, that the child was not a boy, 
and that Mrs. Snodgrass did considerably better « than 
could have been expected.” Granny Mitchum met 
these uncomfortable facts, simply by demonstrating 
that the laws of nature had somehow got topsy-turvy, 
in favour of Mrs. Snodgrass ; and that the baby ought 
to have been a boy, and that its mother ought to have 
approached the grave so nearly, that only the miraculous 
decoction of Granny Mitchum, herself, could have 
saved her. 

We will not wish our granny long life, for who ever 
heard of a granny’s dying ? — but we trust that she may 
witness a thousand more Malthusian facts — and that 
whenever she comes in competition with the gentlemen 
of the faculty, she may force them “to haul in their 
horns, and give up that there’s other people knows 
something, besides theyselves;” for we know that 
such a consummation would bring to her heart such a 
degree of felicity, as neither wealth nor honours could 
bestow. 


THE GOOD MUGGINS. 

The “ Good Muggins’’ is somewhat of a loafer. At 
home, he attends to but little else than the county 
elections ; and it is a matter of wonder, to all his 
acquaintances how his family are fed and clothed. 
His single care is the preservation of the Nation — and 
whether he be Whig or Democrat, the penchant for 
political discourse is his most prominent characteristic. 
He always has the earliest political intelligence, and 
though he but imperfectly understands the movements 
and measures he discusses, he will have no other topic 
of conversation. 

The Good Muggins” is apt to be a subscriber to 
some leading political journal — until his name is strick- 
en from the list for non-payment. No one can tell to 
what extent the National Intelligencer and Washington 
Union have suffered by «« Good Mugginses.” We only 
know that it is immense ! 

It is astonishing how many persons of consequence 
the Good Muggins” is intimate with. If he happen 
to have emigrated from Tennessee, you will certainly 
find that he was on familiar terms with the late Presi- 
dent, and that he was often the bed-fellow of Governors 
Jones and Brown. The personal history of each is also 

( 151 ) 


152 


THE GOOD MUGGINS. 


what he knows by heart. They don’t seem big men to 

him — HE KNEW THEM SO WELL ! 

In like manner, he is the confidential friend of all the 
prominent men in our own state. He can tell where 
Nat Terry is to spend next summer, and at the proper 
time will tell you what David Hubbard’s projects are. 
As for ‘‘ Ned Dargan — Ned is a good fellow !” he eja- 
culates — he and Ned are like brothers! George 
Goldthwaite,” too, he can tell all about ; but the fact 
is, «« George” is not the man that the « Good Muggins” 
is apt to take to. The Judge is a natural enemy of 
the Muggins” tribe, and often cools any incipient 
ardency towards himself, at the first approach. 

The members of Congress are always obnoxious to 
complaint, on the part of “ Muggins.” He is either 
grumbling at the ‘‘cart-loads of documents” sent him 
by Frank Bowden; or, “he wants to know why the 
devil old Billy King hasn’t sent him a document, or 
written him a line, this session !” It is either too much, 
or too little, for “ Muggins,” all the time. However, 
his friends in the Tennessee Delegation send him all he 
wants, from Congress ; and ifs a matter of no import- 
ance to him what the Alabama members do ! 

The particular “ Muggins” in our eye is very fond 
of attending the session of the Legislature. The only 
difficulty, ever in the way, is the expense ; and this he 
obviates by attaching himself to some young gentleman 
who is a candidate, before the Legislature, for a county 
Judgeship, or a Solicitorship, or something of that sort.. 
He is not a candidate himself — no, sir — no, sir ! They 
wanted to make him take an office in Tennessee — in 
fact, had pretty much to quit the State, on that account ! 


THE GOOD MUGGINS. 


153 


He only wants Smith made County Judge of Russell ; 
and if the Democratic party is true to itself, and to the 
principles of ’98, and if there’s any truth in what the 
Union — the JYashville Union — says, Smith must be 
elected. Smith! Did you never hear of Smith? — 
splendid young man! Met Hilliard, last summer, on 
the stump, and made him feel very small ! Smith ! 
there ain’t another young man in the South, like him ! 
Self-made, too ! If he (Muggins) is a judge of talent, 
Smith has got it, and that in great gobs ! 

A couple of members walk into the Rialto^ to eat oys- 
ters. The ‘‘ Good Muggins” follows them, and as they 
sit down, with a smirk, wishes to know if the one with 
the black whiskers isn’t Mr. Jenkins, from Bunkum ? 
‘‘No!” Muggins stands at ease, and remarks upon 
the resemblance which, he insists, exists between the 
whiskered member and the aforesaid Mr. Jenkins. At 
length, he is invited to take a seat and a plate ; and 
although he alleges he has just been taking a dozen 
with Ned Dargan, he accepts with an expression of 
condescending amiability. Pending the oysters, Mug- 
gins” ascertains that the gentleman in black whiskers 
is a member from Lauderdale. Ah ! just the man he’s 
been hunting ; has heard he was a little wrong on the 
Senatorial election. Would request him, as a personal 
favour, to give up Clemens and vote for Fitzpatrick. 
He {<< Muggins”) will take great pleasure in introduc- 
ing him to Fitz, and vouches that he, Fitz, is a first-rate, 
clever fellow. By the way (picking his teeth), does 
Black- Whiskers know Smith — Smith, candidate for 
County Judge of Russell? S-p-l-e-n-d-i-d fellow. 
Smith ! Black- Whiskers must vote for Smith, and put 


i/' 


154 


THE GOOD MUGGINS. 


«« Muggins” under eternal obligations to him. And 
then if Black- Whiskers should ever want anything done 
in Russell, just call on him — for he, “ Muggins,” can 
just do anything he wants to, in that little strip of 
territory ! 

The scene between « Muggins” and « Black- Whis- 
kers” ends, by the latter’s pitching the former, head- 
foremost, out of the room, with an emphatic caution to 
keep his distance thereafter! ‘‘ Muggins’ ” opinion of 
Black- Whiskers, after that, is that he is ^^ow downt’^ 
and no Democrat. The man that wouldn’t vote for 
Smithy could not be true to the principles of ’98 — 
Smith, the man that was an over-match for Henry W. 
Hilliard! 

A week’s stay in Montgomery put Muggins” on 
the most brotherly terms with all the distinguished vi- 
sitors in the city. Now you see him thrusting his phiz 
between the faces of an ex- Governor and a Senator, 
and joining in the conversation, whether or no.” 
Anon, he passes his arm under the coat and around the 
waist of a Judge of the Supreme Court, whom he draws 
to his side, with affectionate tenderness. He gives all 
the candidates for United States Senatorship, his pri- 
vate opinion” of their duties in the premises, and al- 
ways tells them exactly what the Tennessee Legislature 
would do under the circumstances — but he winds up, 
by suggesting that their influence must be brought to 
bear for Smith ! And thus « Muggins” — the most vulgar 
and disgusting specimen possible, of ignorance, impu- 
dence, and loquacity — forces his way among the big 
bugs, who never imagine that at home he is considered ' 
a trifling, idle creature, so near the verge of vagrancy 


THE GOOD MUGGINS. 155 

that divers hints have been thrown out, touching the 
revival of nearly-dormant statutes. 

We had thought that we would depict « Muggins,” 
woe-begone, on his homeward journey, anticipating 
the jeers of “ Burrell,” and brooding over the defeat of 
Smith ! But we sat down to chalk a rough outline of 
an individual, to represent a growing class — a recent 
species of the genus Loafer.” Having done this ^ 
imperfectly, we must take leave of the ‘‘Muggins” 
family. 

226 


JEMMY OWEN ON THE SENATORIAL 
ELECTION. 

(session of ’ 49 — ’ 50 .) 

A GATHERER of « unconsiderecl trifles” might make 
many a laugh by turning his attention to the proceed- 
ings of the street sessions of the Legislature, this winter. 
The week or two we were on hand” furnished some 
droll incidents and what Jemmy Williams, of Jackson 
— God rest him, at home, in Bunkum — would call 
amusing categories.” 

Imagine Jemmy Owen the Doorkeeper, in the bar- 
ber’s shop under the Madison House, undergoing the 
tonsorial operation, at the hands of Peter. Enter, a 
member of the House, whom Jemmy knows to be a 
Democrat, but whose wing” is not known to the Door- 
keeper. It is the evening of the day of King’s elec- 
tion as Senator, and the one preceding Clemens’s. 

Loquitur the member. “ So Jemmy, we couldn’t 
make an election for the second seat to-day.” 

Jemmy. Whist ! Did iver ye see the likes We 
will make it to-morrow 

Member. « « Quite likely. Clemens is a devUish smart 
young man /” 


( 156 ) 


JEMMY OWEN ON THE SENATORIAL ELECTION. 157 

Jemmy. «« He’s the eye ov a hawk and a face like 
yer sweetheart’s, inthirely !” 

Member. Handsome fellow. How the devil, tho’, 
are they going to get over that nomination } Fitzpatrick 
is an old leader of the party.” 

Jemmy. « Since iver I’ve been door-kaper ? He’s a 
grate leader and his lady’s a Quane. And then there's 
the nomination to he sure.''"' 

Member. But I’ll swear North Alabama ought to 
have a Senator, and Jere is as smart as a steel-trap, 
and he’s very acceptable to the North.” 

Jemmy. ‘‘Be Jasus, he’s acceptable to anybody, 
Faix ! Jere’s a boy will do to thrusV’' 

Member. “ Well, who’ll be elected ?” 

Jemmy. “ Belikes the hates will be broken.” Jem- 
my said this as if to avoid a direct expression of 
opinion. 

Member. “ It never will do” (musingly, and Jemmy 
watching his expression intently) “ to break up the 
organization of the party ; but — d — n ! — Jemmy, Fitz 
is almost obliged to be the man !” 

Jemmy. “Be this or be that, I’m thinking that way 
meself.” 

Member. “ Well, who’re you for?” 

Jemmy. “Hasn’t old Ben got the name of the 
blessed Saint }—Yiiz-pathrick And a wink assisted 
to express the doorkeeper’s preference, more definitely. 

Member. (Seriously,) “ But, Jemmy, Col. Clemens 
has also an Irish name — Jer-e-miah! Isn’t it?” 

Jemmy. (Thoughtfully,) “ Be sure it is — be sure it’s 
an old counthry name ! Whist, Peter ! wait a minute ! 
Now I think ov it, that’s the name of one of the ould 


158 


JEMMY OWEN ON THE 


kings of Ireland. Be Jasus, ye can look in his face, 
too, an’ see the rale blood ov it. Yes, yes, Jere’ll make 
the Sinnatur we’ll all be proud of!” Jemmy was 
certain he was on the right tack, this time. 

Member. ‘‘The democrat that votes for Clemens, 
to-morrow, will damn himself with the party in the 
Legislature, to a moral certainty.” This was said with 
great gravity. 

Jemmy. (In astonishment, and with dilated eyes.) 
“And — and — that’s a fact!” (Recovering himself.) 
“And he’ll desarve it too — and to be d — d into hell, 
to boot.” 

Member. But the people — the people of N. Alabama 
and the whole State — will sustain him ; that’s equally 
certain.” 

Jemmy. (Turning white and red alternately,) “ God 
forbid, sir, God forbid, I should say a word agin it. 
It’s the paple, the holy paple, sir, that’s grater, sir, 
than the Legislatur — grater, be the Lord, than anything 
but the House of Rep’sentatives. Yes, be the Lord — 
and they will sustain Jere. I know 

Member. “ Look here. Jemmy, this is a serious mat- 
ter. The party have determined to ascertain the posi- 
tion of every Democrat connected with the Legisla- 
ture,” (here Jemmy looked frightened,) “ in regard to 
this matter. Answer distinctly — are you in favour of 
Clemens or Fitzpatrick?” 

Jemmy. (Very much confused, stammering, and 
putting on his cravat with nervous jerks.) “ Well, thin 
— divil’s in it — you see, sir — be Christ, I hardly know 
— but it’s this way” — and here he shook his head 
rapidly, as if to reinstate a fallen idea, properly, upon 


SENATORIAL ELECTION. 


159 


its legs^it’s this way, just. I’m Doorkaper to the 
House, and the Sinnit’s no controwl ov me, in God’s 
worl’. Whichever way a majority of the House goes, 
I’m that way. I’ve been Doorkaper these fifteen years, 
an’ niver was agin the House yet — and small blame to 
me. No sir,” (growing more emphatic and deter- 
mined) ; I’ll stick to me House. The Sinnit may 
go to the devil — I never liked it, since Arm’stead 
Thomas laughed because me big shandylare fell and 
broke into smithereens ! No, sir, I’m with me House, 
sir ; and if any man gits more’n that out ov me the 
night, he’ll rise betimes in the mornin’.” Exit Jemmy, 
shaking his head, and wondering whether the conver- 
sation would ever be repeated. He Rather feared it 
w^ould be ! 


MONTGOMEEY CHAEACTERS. 


THE GRAND SECRETARY. 

On the pavement, in front of the Exchange Hotel, 
you will frequently see a gentleman standing; with 
folded arms and shoulders thrown back. His attitude 
is soldierly ; and so are the buttoning of his dark frock 
coat and his Napoleonic bust. His face is florid, and 
his eye liquid ; and the expression of the whole at once 
amiable and dignified. 

A gentleman passes. Instantly the military front 
bends in recognition, with the stateliness and graceful- 
ness with which the lofty pine yields before a steady 
breeze. And now a lady trips in view. On the second, 
the arms are disengaged, and the right one, with gentle 
and graceful sweep, is approximated to the ca^or of our 
friend, which in due time is elevated, as he majestically 
and graciously, with wreathed lips, inclines himself to 
within three feet of the curb-stone. 

This is the Grand Secretary. You will find few 
men of forty-odd, in Montgomery, so handsome as he 
' — fewer so amiable — and not another so accomplished. 
Of almost doubtful nationality — having been born in 
the West Indies and early removed to and educated in 
the U. S. — he unites in himself the suavity and vivacity 

( 160 ) 


THE GRAND SECRETARY. 


161 


of the French, and the manliness, patriotism, and enter- 
prise of the Yankee. He speal .s the language of love, 
more elegantly than Louis Napoleon — German, like 
emptying a keg of nails on the floor — and English 
with the purity of Addison and the volubility of Mrs. 
Partington. Besides, he is an accomplished musician ; 
composes excellently, and plays charmingly. The 
piano, harp, flute, and violin, all acknowledge a mas- 
ter’s hand,” in his. But his sweetest performances are 
on that powerful wind instrument the Press ! His adver- 
tisements are really enrapturing ! 

Our friend is the Grand Secretary of the Grand 
Lodge — the Grand Secretary of the Grand Chapter — 
the Grand Secretary of the Grand Council — and the 
Grand Secretary of the Grand Division of the Sons of 
Temperance — of the State of Alabama. The arduous 
duties of all these Grand Secretary-ships he performs 
with a fidelity and accuracy that have won for him a 
high appreciation by his brethren. He is also « Sta- 
tioner-in-chief ” to the Exchange Hotel, in the base- 
ment of which he sells books of all descriptions, sta- 
tionery and bijouterie. Here he is at home — floating, 
as it were, on a sea of literature, amid the froth of love- 
songs, lithographs, fancy envelopes, visiting cards, and 
valentines. 

The Grand Secretary is a ladies’ man. His devotion 
to the sex is unbounded. His former occupation, in 
Tuscaloosa — teaching music — made him extensively 
acquainted with the fair of the State ; and there is about 
him, an irresistible attraction — an electricity — a mes- 
meric charm — an affinity — an impressibility which 
binds him to ten thousand female hearts, and them to 


162 


MONTGOMERY CHARACTERS. 


him. Either he is positive and the ladies negative, or, 
vice versa . — Whenever an approximation is attained, a 
current is immediately established ; but the ladies are 
never shocked” by his battery of compliments. His 
voice, particularly when conversing with the ladies, 
exhibits singular flexibility and softness, and betrays 
the foreigner only in the extreme delicacy of its into- 
nations. Verily, in the first efflorescence of his youth, 
the Grand Secretary must have been a delightful and 
dangerous fellow ! 

It remains only to add, that the Grand Secretary has 
been a citizen of Alabama for more than twenty years, 
during the greater part of which he resided in Tusca- 
loosa ; and that his course as a man and a Mason” 
has endeared him to a circle of friends larger than most 
men can boast, and has established for him a reputation, 
which we trust will ultimately make his fortune. 


NED II~K. 

A JOLLY old cock is Ned. No one lives more hap- 
pily or harmlessly, than he. He has no enemies — not 
one ; and his face is always radiant, and his heart 
merry. To be sure he has had his troubles, but he has 
met them like a man, never sacrificing flesh to sorrow, 
nor wasting time in deploring the loss of spilt milk. 

Ned must be considerably over fifty, but we take it, 
that his chronology, of late years, is not altogether reli- 
able ; for it is with difficulty he can be made to own 
even that figure. He must have been at least fifty when 
we first knew him ; and that has been more years than 


NED H K. 


163 


would make a little girl a marriageable woman. But 
however that maybe, he certainly is an Irishman, albeit 
he claims North Carolina as his «« native State for, 
says he, ‘«in a free country, mayn’t a man choose the 
State of his nativity !” 

Our friend was a merchant in Montgomery for many 
years, during which he made much money and spent it 
— principally in endorsing for friends. He had a pecu- 
liar philanthropy — that of setting up in business every 
young man he took a liking to; and the rascals gene- 
rally left him ««the bag to hold.” Still Ned was not 
to be deterred from following the dictates of his good 
warm heart; so that he was «« murthered” time and 
again. It is a curious sight, his map” of protested 
Bills of Exchange — amounting to over a million of 
DOLLARS — which hangs up in his comfortable little 
room. Ned is fond of showing this to his visiters, in 
proof of his invincible energy. How he has managed 
to get up this mass of debt, one can hardly imagine ; 
but he has done it somehow, and there are the “ evi- 
dences” pasted on linen of the area of one of Mitchell’s 
largest maps. 

A characteristic anecdote is told of Ned. Three or 
four years since, he was arrested, in Baltimore, and 
confined in jail, on a fraudulent claim. He was severe- 
ly afflicted with rheumatism at the time ; and one would 
have supposed, that pain and imprisonment would have 
soured him against his whole race. Not so, however. 
He spent the few hundreds he had, in paying out the 
small debtors^ and besides assisted by his advice — Ned 
is a pretty good lawyer in commercial matters — those 
whom he could not aid with his purse. . The old gen- 


164 


MONTGOMERY CHARACTERS. 


tleman gained his case, and was released after an 
imprisonment of several months. 

A marked trait in Ned’s character is his superstition. 
Whether he brought it from Ireland or North Carolina, 
w^e could never ascertain. At any rate, he has it, and 
generally travels with an old horse-shoe in his pocket, 
as a talisman. We had a tumble in company with him, 
some years ago, in a railroad train that ran off the track 
and down a steep embankment. The car was inverted 
and the passengers projected, head first, against the ceil- 
ing. Ned was terribly cut and bruised ; but his first 
thought was of a poor woman whom he assisted to get 
clear of the wreck — and his next was of his horse-shoe. 
‘‘ How d — d imprudent,” he exclaimed, «« not to’ve 
brought my shoe along — and the road in such had order 

iooV^ From Montgomery to Boston, Ned H k 

and his Horse-shoe” are known to all railroad conduct- 
ors, stage drivers, steamboat captains and hotel keepers. 

Ned is the historio-gossip of Montgomery. He can 
relate you all that is worth knowing about every man, 
woman, and house in the city. He has files of all the 
city papers, running a long time back, and his memory 
is a ready index by which he can turn to any desired 
matter of information. In short, if not the “ oldest 
inhabitant,” he comes nearer possessing that intangible 
individual’s extensive fund of facts, than any other man 
we know. 

Mr. H ^k is, unfortunately, a bachelor, but to 

make up for it, he constitutes all his fellow citizens his 
family. His warm-heartedness beams out upon all, 
and his benevolence is a constantly, silently descend- 
ing dew that refreshes all around. If he have any 


THE COLONEL. 


165 


faults or bad habit, it is sitting up rather late at the 
“ Rialto,” “ Exchange,” or “ Hall.” He does so love 
to hear a good story from a friend who has just come 
in on the cars — he knows all that travel by railroad, 
steamboat, or stage coach — that sometimes he will lin- 
ger over his punch till near midnight. Generally his 
habits are very methodical and correct, and we hope, 
and do not doubt, that he will be a hale, lively little 
man (slightly shrivelled) in the year of grace 1875. 

As there are a good many widows of our acquaint- 
ance that wmuld be all the better off, if they could catch 
such a prize as Ned, we may remark, that his physical 
man is remarkably neat and trim — not tall or stout, but 
sinewy and well proportioned. His face, if not very 
handsome, is a very happy one, wuth a look of keen 
intelligence and a sparkling of gray eyes, that we 
should suppose to be very attractive to the sex. 


THE COLONEL. 

“ I saw him once before, 

As he passed by the door, 

And again 

The pavement stones resound. 

As he loiters o’er the ground, 

With his cane.” 

The first time we ever saw “ the Colonel,” he was 
standing at the corner of the granite block opposite the 
Madison House. He appeared to be waiting for some 
one ; for every two seconds he raised and let fall on 


166 


MONTGOMERY CHARACTERS. 


the pavement his ebony cane, with a pish” that indi- 
cated disappointment. His tall, thin, and yet elegant 
form, sharply-chiselled and intellectual features ; togeth- 
er with his very plain but unimpeachably genteel attire, 
led us, at first, to the conclusion that he was a clergy- 
man. The fretfulness of the “ pish,” however, and a 
modest pair of whiskers, extending from the ear 
to the angle of the jaw below, somewhat militated 
against this supposition ; and we awaited further 
developments.” 

Presently a dapper fellow, with an irresistible look 
of good-nature, came hurriedly up the street : 

‘‘Is she up, Mike.^” asked the Colonel, twirling his 
cane nervously. 

“Yes — the Sam Dale — fish and oysters!” 

“ Fish } — eh } — what sort ? — in ice — pompano 
— and the Colonel’s face was radiant, and he turned up 
his coat cuffs in ecstasy, and then turned them back, 
for very joy. 

“ No I — not pompano I” was the reply. 

“ Sheephead, eh.? — mighty near as good.” Then 
the Colonel smacked his lips. 

“ Not Sheephead — guess again.” 

“ By Jove, what then .?” 

« Redfish,” said Mike., 

“ Red-fish !” ejaculated the Colonel, and he curled 
his upper lip in frightful contempt, and making his 
ebony cane hum through the air, he added with ineffa- 
ble disdain — “ d — n Redfish 1” 

No words can express the concentrated expression 
with which that “ d — n” was given. It did not mean 
that Redfish might go to perdition, if they chose — but 


THE COLONEL. 


167 


scjmething — a great deal — more ! Every letter had its 
separate force of expression, and the aggregate word as 
it writhed like a hissing serpent through his contemptu- 
ous lips, was most intensive bitterness. It was a curse 
and a sneer worthy of John Randolph, of Roanoke : — 

<c D — N Redfish !” 

The Colonel is a bon vivant of the most exquisite 
and cultivated taste. In him, a first-rate natural capacity 
was improved by extensive European travel. While 
amateuring through the galleries of the continent — he is 
no mean connoisseur, and his opinions as to matters 
connected with art have great weight in Montgomery 
— he devoted his ample leisure to gastronomical study 
and inquiry. He returned with a stock of knowledge 
and experience which he has since constantly exercised 
for the benefit of his friends and himself. In painting, 
sculpture, and gastronomy, his is the umpirage, from 
which there is no appeal. “ The ColoneP’ says so — 
and all Perry and Main streets endorse the irreversible 
dictum. And, it is but sheer justice to say, that his 
power is judiciously exercised — to his exertions and his 
suggestions, Montgomery owes much of what she boasts 
in beauty and improvement. 

The Colonel was in attendance on the last session 
of the Legislature which was held at Tuscaloosa. After 
the passage of the « Removal” measure, he took, of 
course, an active part in securing the location” of the 
Capitol to Montgomery. Wetumpka was the only 
really- contesting opponent, and the Colonel industri- 
ously went to work against Wetumpka. One morning 
the members at the Indian Queen” found about their 
rooms — as if casually dropped — bills of fare from 


168 


MONTGOMERY CHARACTERS. 


Montgomery and Wetumpka. The one from Mont- 
gomery ran somewhat thus : Bill of Fare, at the Mont- 
gomery Hall, Tuesday Nov. — 1845. Soup — Oyster. 
Boiled — Turkey^ with oyster sauce. Roast — Pig. 
Entrees — Oyster-Pie^ §*c. Desert — Plumb-Pudding, 
Tarts, Pies, and Jellies. Fruit — Oranges, Apples, Pine- 
apples, Raisins, Almonds, Wines — Champagne, 

Madeira, Sherry, ^c., ^c. The other was in this style : 
Bill of Fare, at the Wetumpka Hotel, Tuesday Nov. 

, 1845. Soup — Cowpea. Boiled — Bacon and 

Greens. Roast — "^Possum. Entrees — Tripe and Cow- 
Heel. Dessert — Fritters and Molasses. Fruit — Pei'- 
simmons, Chesnuts, Goobers. Wines — Black Malaga. 

The Colonel always thought that these Bills of Fare 
« settled the hash” for Wetumpka.^ He argued that 
his gastronomical finesse took every wavering vote ; 
for, he would remark, if a man does not know where 
to go, and you spread a good dinner before him, isn’t 
it natural he should go to the dinner'^ Egad,” said 
he, I saw one fellow poring over the Montgomery 
Bill, and every time he’d come to oysters” he’d lick 
his chaps — and when he reached the “wines,” he laid 
down the paper and rubbed his hands in perfect delight. 
I know I got him. 

The Colonel does the agreeable to strangers, with 
great tact and politeness. With them, he is eminently 
the well-bred man. His civilities always come in 
proper shape and proper time. He knows who will 
be agreeable to you, and he introduces. He knows 
who will not, and he does not introduce. He will not 
suffer you to be bored ; he will walk with you, drive 
you, dine you, talk politics with you, or show you the 


THE COLONEL. 


169 


city — ^just as he knows by intuition, will suit your 
mood at the time. And he does all with a true cour- 
tesy and gentility, that makes you “ easy in your pan- 
taloons” and delighted with your companion. 

We do not know that we should mention that the 
Colonel is tried, sometimes, by severe attacks of the 
gout^ but that he cherishes a singular notion in regard 
to it : which is, that no one of the physicians in Mont- 
gomery has any considerable or competent idea of 
the peculiarities of that dreadful disease. They^ in 
some of its phases, do not exhibit” rich viands with 
champagne sauce ; while the Colonel is impressed with 
the belief, that the most generous and nourishing diet 
is the least that will enable a man to resist the attacks 
of the excruciating enemy. 

There were two unfortunate topics — we barely allude 
to them — on which the Colonel and ourself disagreed 
in days gone by ; the grading of the capitol grounds, 
and the mode of dressing ducks. It is our misfortune 
to adhere to our original opinions, but we do so with 
deference and — we may add — with something like 
doubt. If those opinions had been formed when the 
Colonel’s taste and judgment were better known to us, 
it is very possible that we should have expressed them 
with much greater hesitancy. As it is — and according 
to agreement — by-gones shall be by-gones ;” and we 
trust that the Colonel’s only enemy, the goiit^ will allow 
him to enliven the large circle that looks so much to 
him, for enjoyment, during the present session. 


THE END. 


i/ i , 


DEC 


11324 





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